«    ^9 


WILDERNE 


1* 


.ADDINGTON  BRUCE 


The 

Howell  Collection 

OF   HISTORICAL 
MATERIALS 


Presented  by  Kay  Kyser 

And  his  Mother 

Emily  Royster  Howell  Kyser 

As  a  Memorial 

To  her  Brother 

Edward  Vernon  Howell 

Dean  School  of  Pharmacy 

1897-1931 


THE   UNIVERSITY 

OF 

NORTH   CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 

CB 

BT2.4-t>  C.2, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00032193778 


This  book  must  not 
be  token  from  the 
Library  building. 


DANIEL   BOONE   AND    THE 
WILDERNESS    ROAD 


»^^ 


•Tl 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN   &   CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.   OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


1)ami:l  liooNE 


From  paimiiig  by  Chester  Harding,  owned  by  Colonel  Reuben  T.  Durrett,  of 
Louisville,  Kentucky 


DANIEL   BOONE 

AND  THE 

WILDERNESS   ROAD 


BY 


H.   ADDINGTON    BRUCE 

AUTHOR  OF  *'THE  ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN 
EXPANSION,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

1911 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1910, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  May,  1910.     Reprinted 
June.  September,  1911. 


Norivood  Press 

J.  S.   Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,   U.S.A. 


^- 

(0 

0 

0 


TO    THE    MEMORY    OF 
MY    FRIENDS 

CHARLES   FLOYD    PERSONS 

AND 

AGNES    GEORGE   PERSONS 


PREFACE 

In  his  old  age,  though  in  no  spirit  of  boastfulness, 
Daniel  Boone  declared  that  "the  history  of  the  west- 
ern country  has  been  my  history.'*  Undoubtedly, 
of  all  the  men  who  took  part  in  the  winning  of  the 
early  West,  none  played  so  conspicuous  a  role  as 
Boone,  or  a  role  of  such  extensive  usefulness.  His 
services  to  his  country  began  in  the  bitter  struggle 
of  the  French  and  Indian  War,  that  colossal  conflict 
which  definitely  eliminated  France  as  a  factor  in 
New  World  colonization.  It  was  he,  more  than 
any  other  man,  who  made  England's  colonists  ac- 
quainted with  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  vast 
and  well-nigh  unoccupied  region  between  the  Alle- 
ghanies  and  the  Mississippi.  To  his  bold  pioneering 
the  United  States  owes  one  of  its  greatest  highways 
of  empire  —  the  famous  Wilderness  Road,  along 
which  so  many  thousands  of  home-seekers  passed 
in  the  first  peopling  of  the  West.  Throughout  the 
stormy  years  of  the  Revolution,  he  was  preeminent 
in  the  defence  of  the  infant  settlements  which  he  had 


Vlll 


Preface 


done  so  much  to  plant  in  the  country  beyond  the 
mountains.  And,  finally,  after  the  Revolution,  when 
the  American  people  had  begun  to  take  possession 
of  the  new  territory  gained  and  held  for  them  by  him 
and  his  fellow-pioneers,  Boone  once  more  entered 
upon  his  self  imposed  mission  of  pointing  the  way 
for  his  countrymen  to  the  land  of  the  setting  sun  ; 
and,  having  crossed  the  Mississippi,  died  as  he  had 
lived  —  in  the  very  forefront  of  civilization. 

The  attempt,  therefore,  to  write  such  a  book  as 
the  present  —  which  is  intended  to  serve  the  double 
purpose  of  a  biography  of  Daniel  Boone  and  a  study 
of  the  first  phase  of  the  territorial  growth  of  the 
United  States  —  finds  am^ple  justification  in  the  facts 
of  Boone's  career.  On  the  biographical  side  the 
effort  has  been  made  not  only  to  give  as  complete 
and  accurate  an  account  of  Boone's  life  as  is  now 
possible,  but  also  to  estimate  and  make  clear  his 
specific  contributions  to  the  progress  of  the  nation  ; 
while  on  the  historical  side  my  chief  aim  has  been 
to  describe  the  process  of  expansion  in  its  military, 
political,  economic,  and  social  aspects.  This  has 
necessitated  a  somewhat  detailed  examination  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  people  who  won  the  West,  and 
the  measures  they  took  —  notably  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  Watauga,  Transylvania,  and  Cumberland 


Preface  ix 

settlements  —  to  establish  the  institutions  of  civilized 
society  in  their  isolated  wilderness  communities.  But 
I  have  endeavored  to  accomplish  this  portion  of  my 
task  without  causing  the  reader  to  lose  sight  of  the 
great  central  figure  of  the  narrative.  In  any  event, 
I  believe  that  only  by  gaining  an  understanding  of 
the  life  and  spirit  and  ideals  of  the  sturdy  folk  of  the 
frontier,  is  it  possible  to  appreciate  Boone's  place  in 
history  and  the  bearing  of  the  early  westward  move- 
ment on  the  subsequent  development  of  the  United 
States. 

I  am,  of  course,  under  obligations  to  previous 
writers,  particularly  to  Boone's  leading  biographers, 
Dr.  Reuben  Gold  Thwaites  and  Dr.  John  M.  Peck ; 
to  the  distinguished  author  of  "  The  Winning  of 
the  West "  ;  to  the  early  historians  of  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee;  to  the  contributors  to  the  excellent 
Filson  Club  publications;  and  to  Professor  A.  B. 
Hulbert,  author  of  the  "Historic  Highways  of 
America  "  series  of  monographs.  I  am  further  in- 
debted to  Dr.  Thwaites  for  helpful  advice,  as  also 
to  Professors  Edward  Channing  and  Albert  Bushnell 
Hart,  of  Harvard  University,  and  Colonels  Reuben 
T.  Durrett  and  Bennett  H.  Young,  of  Louisville, 
Kentucky.  I  would  also  thank  Captain  Edward 
M.   Drane,  of  Frankfort,  Kentucky,  for  assistance 


X  Preface 

in  illustrating  my  book,  and  Mr.  T.  Gilbert  White, 
of  New  York,  for  permission  to  reproduce  his  two 
beautiful  paintings  now  in  the  Kentucky  State  Capi- 
tol. Much  valuable  material  to  which  I  could  not 
otherwise  have  had  access  —  especially  in  the  way  of 
rare  copies  of  early  Western  newspapers  —  has  been 
placed  at  my  disposal  by  the  authorities  of  Harvard 
University  Library,  for  whose  sympathetic  coopera- 
tion I  desire  to  express  sincere  gratitude.  And,  as 
in  all  my  undertakings,  I  owe  much  to  the  wise 
counsel  and  aid  of  my  wife. 

H.   ADDINGTON   BRUCE. 
Cambridge,  Mass., 
April  4,  1 910. 


CONTENTS 


Preface 

CHAPTER 
I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

Index 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone         • 

Boone's  First  Campaign 

Dark  Days  on  the  Border   . 

Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky 

The  People  who  followed  Boone 

Westward  Ho  !    . 

The  Building  of  the  Wilderness  Road 

Boone  as  a  Law-maker 

The  Passing  of  Transylvania 

War-time  in  Kentucky 

The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark 

Boone  among  the  Indians 

The  Last  Years  of  the  War 

Pioneering  in  Watauga  .  , 

From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland 

Annals  of  the   Wilderness  Road    . 

Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  . 

Boone's  Last  Years 


PAGE 

vii 


17 
36 

49 
68 
84 

lOI 

112 

133 
153 
173 
199 
221 
247 
264 
281 
301 
325 

343 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


lymnci  duuuc       .             .             .             •             • 

rj  uf 

(tHJflClC 

PAGB 

Boone's  First  Glimpse  of  Kentucky- 

5+ 

James  Robertson            .... 

78 

The  Sycamore  Shoals  Treaty 

.    98 

Relics  of  Daniel  Boone           .          • 

.    126 

Simon  Kenton     ..... 

.    162 

George  Rogers  Clark    .... 

186 

Memorial  Wall  to  Heroines  of  Bryan's  Station 

238 

John  Sevier          ..... 

256 

Cumberland  Gap  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

292 

Site  of  Boonesborough  .... 

304 

Boone's  Cabin  in  Missouri     . 

336 

Map  of  the  Early  West 

341 

Xlll 


Daniel   Boone   and   the 
Wilderness   Road 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  YOUTH  OF  DANIEL  BOONE 

DANIEL  BOONE,  as  every  schoolboy  knows, 
is  the  typical  American  backwoodsman. 
He  was  never  so  much  at  home  as  when 
treading  the  pathless  wilderness,  rifle  in  hand,  in 
quest  of  game  or  of  the  pioneer's  mortal  foe,  the 
wily  Indian.  Always  Boone  kept  in  the  forefront 
of  civilization,  pointing  the  way  for  its  advance  but 
never  allowing  it  quite  to  overtake  him.  Not  city 
streets,  but  the  mountain,  the  forest,  and  the  prairie 
were  his  habitat.  And  he  came  honestly  by  his  un- 
quenchable passion  for  the  wild  and  open  life  of 
the  backwoods  and  the  border. 

He  was  born  in  a  log-cabin,  remote  from  the 
refinements  and  allurements  of  civilization;  and  he 
had  for  parents  plain,  simple  country  folk,  accus- 
tomed to  hardships  and  at  all  times  preferring  the 
freedom   of  the   frontier   to   the   crowded,    hurried, 


2        Daniel   Boone  and   the  Wilderness   Road 

worried  existence  of  the  town.  His  mother  was  the 
daughter  of  an  unassuming  Welsh  Quaker,  John 
Morgan.  His  father,  who  bore  the  odd  name  of 
Squire,  was  an  Englishman  by  birth,  a  native  of  the 
obscure  Devonshire  village  of  Bradninch.  Although 
bred  a  Quaker,  Squire  Boone  seems  to  have  had  in 
his  veins  a  touch  of  the  longing  for  excitement  and 
adventure  that  sent  Hawkins  and  Drake  and  those 
other  old-time  sea-dogs  of  Devon  on  their  epoch- 
making  voyages.  At  all  events,  when  scarcely  in 
his  teens,  he  became  profoundly  interested  in  re- 
ports of  the  Quaker  paradise  said  to  have  been 
established  by  William  Penn  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic. 

It  was  unfortunately  the  case  that  in  England, 
and  even  in  New  England,  Quakers  were  subject  to 
bitter  and  bloody  persecution,  and  many  of  them 
led  most  wretched  lives.  In  Penn's  dominions,  on 
the  contrary,  according  to  the  story  which  in  time 
found  its  way  to  the  farthest  corners  of  the  old 
country,  not  only  were  Quaker  refugees  absolutely 
free  from  molestation  by  religious  bigots,  but  they 
were  on  the  friendliest  of  terms  with  the  native 
Indians,  were  making  the  wilderness  to  blossom 
like  the  rose,  and  were  in  every  way  living  amid  the 
most  deli(;htful  surroundino;s.  ..t'^* 

His  curiosity  roused  to  a  high  pitch,  yoling  Boone 
one  fine  day  took  ship  for  Philadelphia,  in  company 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  3 

with  a  brother,  George,  and  a  sister,  Sarah.  Their 
immediate  object  was  to  verify  the  rumors  they  had 
heard,  and  to  determine  for  themselves  the  fitness 
of  Pennsylvania  as  a  place  of  residence  for  the  en- 
tire family,  their  father  having  signified  his  willing- 
ness to  emigrate  if  the  outlook  seemed  promising. 

To  us  of  to-day  this  sailing  of  Squire  Boone  — 
whose  American-born  son  was  to  serve  as  guide  to 
the  American  people  in  the  first  stage  of  the  wonder- 
ful westward  march  that  has  carried  them  to  the 
shore  of  the  Pacific  and  beyond  —  cannot  but  seem 
a  most  noteworthy  occurrence.  Yet  history  is  silent 
concerning  it.  The  ship  that  carried  the  youthful 
Boones  was  not  a  Mayflower  or  a  Susan  Con- 
stant.  It  was  simply  one  of  many  others  employed 
in  the  emigrant  trade,  and  even  its  name  and  the 
port  of  its  departure  have  long  since  passed  into 
oblivion.  Whether  the  crossing  was  smooth  or 
rough,  whether  the  Boones  enjoyed  it  or  regretted 
ever  having  set  foot  aboard,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 
The  probability  is  that  they  were  herded  together 
in  unpleasant  quarters  with  a  small  army  of  fellow- 
emigrants,  —  for  people  were  already  flocking  to 
Pennsylvania,  —  and  that  they  were  heartily  glad 
when  they  saw  the  low,  thin,  blue  line  indicating 
land  ahead.  At  an  uncertain  date  in  the  years  1712, 
1 713,  or  1 714  their  ship  swung  in  between  the  capes 
of  the  Delaware,  proceeded  up  the  river,  on  whose 


4        Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

banks  were  still  visible  the  ruins  of  Sweden's  ill- 
fated  experiment  in  colonization  three-quarters  of 
a  century  before,  and  eventually  landed  the  ardent, 
hopeful  Boones  in  Philadelphia. 

It  needed  only  a  few  months  of  travel  and  explora- 
tion to  convince  them  that  rumor  had  not  unduly 
exaggerated  the  beauties  and  riches  and  advantages 
of  Pennsylvania.  In  high  good  humor  brother 
George  hurried  back  to  bring  out  their  father  and 
mother  and  the  younger  children;  sister  Sarah  gave 
a  favorable  ear  to  the  advances  of  a  matrimoni- 
ally inclined  German,  and,  as  Mrs.  Jacob  Stover, 
became  the  mistress  of  a  rude  but  perpetually  neat 
cabin  home  in  what  is  to-day  Berks  County;  while 
Squire  Boone,  for  his  part,  roamed  with  all  the  rest- 
lessness of  youth  through  the  country  about  Phila- 
delphia, eventually  choosing  for  his  home  the  frontier 

V*^  hamlet  of  North  Wales,  and  settling  down  to  the  hard 

M^*l  life  of  a  Pennsylvania  backwoodsman. 

It  was  in  North  Wales  that  he  met  Sarah  Morgan, 
and  it  was  on  the  23d  of  July,  1720,  that  they 
were  married  in  a  Quaker  meeting-house  and  in 
accordance  with  the  simple  Quaker  ceremony.  A 
family  tradition,  quoted  by  Dr.  Reuben  Gold 
Thwaites,  Daniel  Boone's  latest  and  best  biographer, 
pictures  Squire  Boone  as  "a  man  of  rather  small 
stature,  fair  complexion,  red  hair,  and  gray  eyes"; 
while  his  wife  was  "a  woman  something  over  the 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  5 

common  size,  strong  and  active,  with  black  hair  and 
eyes. 

There  was  no  honeymoon  —  merely  the  rough 
and  boisterous  yet  sincere  rejoicings  after  the  back- 
woods fashion,  and  then  the  young  couple  laid  aside 
their  wedding  garments,  and  plunged  once  more 
into  the  business  of  life.  Very  poor  they  were,  yet 
very  happy,  and  their  happiness  was  soon  increased 
—  as  likewise  their  cares  and  responsibilities  —  by 
the  advent  of  children,  four  of  whom  were  born  to 
them  during  the  dozen  years  they  remained  in  the 
North  Wales  country. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  Squire  Boone  had  saved 
enough  money  to  buy  a  farm  of  his  own,  and  he 
decided  to  remove  to  Oley  Township  —  in  the 
modern  Berks  County  —  where  now  lived  not  only 
his  sister  Sarah  but  his  parents  and  several  younger 
brothers  and  sisters.  The  Boones,  indeed,  were 
sufficiently  numerous  in  that  part  of  Berks  to  give 
the  name  of  Exeter  to  one  of  its  townships,  in  honor 
of  the  ancient  Devonshire  city  that  stood  only  a  few 
miles  from  their  native  village. 

In  Oley  Township,  then,  in  the  beautiful  valley 
of  the  Schuylkill,  and  for  what  would  seem  to  us 
a  ridiculously  small  sum.  Squire  Boone  became  the 
owner  of  a  tract  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  acres. 
Most  of  it  was  in  woodland,  —  that  is  to  say,  the 
hardest  sort  of  work  would  be  necessary  to  make 


6        Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

it  fit  for  cultivation,  —  but  Boone's  arms  were  strong 
and  his  heart  courageous,  and  with  right  good-will 
he  began  to  make  a  clearing.  Erelong  the  smoke 
from  another  cabin  was  rising  above  the  trees  of 
Oley  Township,  a  token  to  all  who  saw  it  that  one 
more  pioneer  family  had  joined  in  the  labor  of  con- 
quering that  portion  of  the  Pennsylvania  wilderness. 

In  this  cabin,  Nov.  2,  1734,  Daniel  Boone  made 
his  initial  appearance  on  the  stage  of  life.  Had  he 
been  a  first-born  his  arrival  might  have  been  ac- 
counted an  event,  and  something  made  of  it.  But 
being  only  a  sixth  child,  —  another  had  been  born 
since  the  departure  from  North  Wales,  —  he  was 
regarded  from  so  distinctly  matter-of-fact  a  point 
of  view  that  nothing  whatever  is  known  with  respect 
to  his  infancy.  It  may  safely  be  taken  for  granted, 
though,  that  he  was  left  pretty  much  to  shift  for 
himself  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  go  about  on  hands 
and  knees.  This  was  a  way  pioneer  mothers  had, 
and  that  it  was  not  a  bad  way  is  clearly  evidenced 
by  the  sturdiness  of  their  deer-stalking,  Indian- 
fighting  sons. 

It  may  also  be  reasonably  conjectured  that  the 
little  Daniel's  infantile  amusements  included  play- 
ing with  his  father's  powder-horn,  tugging  at  his 
father's  rifle  as  it  lay  carelessly  thrown  on  a  settee 
after  the  return  from  a  hunt,  or  staring  fixedly  and 
eagerly  at  it  when  it  reposed  in  its  accustomed  place 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  7 

against  the  wall.  If,  as  is  said,  the  child  is  father 
of  the  man,  these  and  similar  toys  must  have  held 
Daniel  Boone's  attention  at  an  unusually  early  age. 

Certainly,  he  was  still  a  very  small  boy  when  he 
began  to  give  indications  of  the  remarkable  fondness 
for  hunting  which  was  characteristic  of  him  even 
in  extreme  old  age.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  his 
birthplace,  only  a  few  miles  south  of  the  progressive 
city  of  Reading,  and  in  the  heart  of  one  of  Penn- 
sylvania's most  populous  counties,  boasting,  as  it 
does,  close  upon  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  was  in  the  days  of  Boone's  boyhood 
a  grim,  sparsely  settled  frontier  region,  abounding 
in  game  of  every  description.  Against  the  smaller 
sort  of  creatures  —  squirrels  and  chipmunks  and 
birds  —  he  soon  declared  war,  tracking  them  in 
imitation  of  a  veteran  huntsman,  and  slaying  them 
with  a  knob-rooted  sapling,  which  he  learned  to  hurl 
with  remarkable  dexterity. 

This,  too,  when  he  was  not  more  than  ten  years 
old.  A  little  later  —  to  be  precise,  at  the  age  of 
twelve  —  his  father  surprised  and  deHghted  him  with 
the  gift  of  a  light  rifle.  Gone  forever  was  the  knob- 
rooted  sapHng,  thrown  aside  in  the  exuberance  of 
his  joy  at  this  wonderful  present.  He  was  a  man 
now,  a  man  full  grown,  he  told  himself,  for  did  he 
not  carry  the  weapon  of  a  man  .?  And  he  patted  its 
stock  fondly,  and  peered  eagerly  through  the  under- 


8        Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

growth  in  search  of  some  fierce  beast  of  prey  to 
overcome. 

In  point  of  sheer  fact,  for  all  his  feelings  of  bigness 
and  self-importance,  he  was  just  a  freckled,  bare- 
foot, ragged  little  urchin,  who  frequently  gave  his 
parents  a  great  deal  of  trouble  by  neglecting  his  duties 
as  herd-boy  in  order  to  play  Nimrod  in  the  surround- 
ing forest.  He,  they  knew,  could  take  care  of  him- 
self, but  the  cattle  required  attention,  and  it  some- 
times was  no  easy  matter  to  ascertain  where  they 
had  strayed.  But  it  was  impossible  long  to  be 
angry  with  him,  so  intensely  earnest  was  he  in  his 
hunting  expeditions;  and,  recognizing  this,  his 
parents,  instead  of  scolding  him,  turned  his  fondness 
for  hunting  to  good  account  by  commissioning  him 
to  provide  the  wild  meat  for  the  family  table.  They 
could  have  found  no  occupation  more  congenial  to 
him,  and  none  better  calculated  to  train  him  for 
his  life-work.  He  became  an  unerring  shot,  an  ex- 
pert woodsman,  acquainted  with  the  ways  of  furred 
and  feathered  life,  and  schooling  himself  admirably 
in  many  another  text-book  of  nature. 

Of  schooling  as  most  boys  know  it,  however,  he 
had  next  to  none.  The  majority  of  his  biographers 
assert  that  he  went  for  a  time  to  an  "old  field*' 
school,  where  he  acquired  the  rudiments  of  "book 
learning"  in  the  form  of  easy  lessons  in  the  spelling- 
book  and  Psalter,  together  with  some  slight  instruc- 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  9 

tion  in  writing  and  arithmetic.  One  author  even 
goes  so  far  as  to  give  imaginary  details  of  his  school 
Hfe,  including  an  obviously  fanciful  account  of  a 
singular  and  reprehensible  trick  played  by  Boone 
and  some  fellow-pupils  on  their  schoolmaster,  who 
is  described  as  a  worthless  drunkard.  Of  course 
Virtue,  as  typified  in  these  fascinating  juvenile 
vagabonds,  triumphed  over  Vice,  the  learned  but 
dissolute  pedagogue. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that,  at  all  events  in  the  role 
of  scholar,  Boone  never  saw  the  inside  of  a  school- 
room; but  was  indebted  for  such  education  as  he 
received  to  his  mother  and  a  young  sister-in-law,  the 
wife  of  his  much  older  brother  Samuel.  Both  of 
these  devoted  instructors,  although  they  must  have 
found  in  the  restless,  nature-loving,  active  boy  a 
most  difficult  pupil,  took  pains  enough,  as  we  shall 
see,  to  enable  him  in  after-life  to  write  interesting, 
if  badly  spelled  letters;  and  to  earn  his  living  as 
a  surveyor. 

He  also  received  some  manual  training  of  a  useful 
sort.  His  great-grandfather  on  the  paternal  side 
had  been  a  blacksmith,  his  grandfather  —  who  died 
in  Berks  County  when  Daniel  was  in  his  tenth  year  — 
a  weaver;  and  both  of  these  occupations  were  fol- 
lowed by  his  father  as  soon  as  the  farm  was  sufficiently 
cleared  to  permit  of  his  devoting  some  part  of  his 
attention  to  interests  other  than   agricultural.     He 


10      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

kept  half  a  dozen  looms  at  work  making  "home- 
spun" for  his  neighbors  and  for  the  Philadelphia 
market,  and  the  cheery  blaze  of  his  forge  was  a  wel- 
come sight  to  tired  travellers  after  a  day's  journey 
through  the  forest.  As  between  the  two  —  the  loom 
and  the  forge  —  Daniel  infinitely  preferred  the  latter; 
but,  we  are  told,  only  because  it  enabled  him  to 
repair  broken  rifles  and  traps.  Everything  was  sub- 
ordinated to  his  zeal  for  the  Hfe  out  doors,  and  each 
succeeding  year  he  awaited  with  growing  impatience 
the  approach  of  winter  as  the  happy  season  when 
he  would  be  free  to  give  full  rein  to  his  passion  for 
the  chase. 

For,  from  the  time  he  was  thirteen  he  made  it  his 
custom  to  spend  every  winter  hunting.  All  through 
Berks  County,  and  far  into  the  forests  and  mountains 
beyond,  he  wandered,  exploring  the  country  so 
thoroughly  that  for  miles  roundabout  there  was 
scarcely  a  foot  of  territory  unknown  to  him.  The 
Blue  Mountain  and  South  Mountain  ranges  became 
as  famiHar  to  him  as  the  undulating  hills  of  his 
father's  Oley  farm.  Many  a  day  he  climbed  Penn's 
Mount,  near  the  site  of  Reading,  and  from  its  summit 
beheld  the  snow-laden  clouds  gather  over  the  far- 
extending  valleys.  Sometimes,  laden  with  furs, 
he  journeyed  down  the  Schuylkill  to  Philadelphia, 
then  a  most  picturesque  little  city,  with  its  Tudor 
cottages,  its  orchards,  its  gardens,  and  its  bustling 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  li 

water-front,  where  ships  were  constantly  coming 
and  going,  bringing  in  all  manner  of  strange  people 
from  foreign  parts,  and  taking  out  the  rich  produce 
of  the  New  World. 

Thus  his  \i^e  passed  until  he  reached  his  sixteenth 
year  —  an  irresponsible,  roaming,  care-free  life, 
but  in  its  own  way  stimulating  to  ambition  and  not 
devoid  of  achievement.  At  sixteen  there  was  no 
better  woodsman  in  all  eastern  Pennsylvania  than 
Daniel  Boone.  Thanks  to  the  wise  policy  of  William 
Penn  and  his  Quaker  successors  in  the  governing  of 
Pennsylvania,  it  had  not  been  necessary  for  him, 
while  thus  serving  his  apprenticeship  in  the  forest, 
to  match  his  wits  against  those  of  the  Indian,  as 
would  have  been  the  case  had  his  boyhood  been 
spent  in  almost  any  other  part  of  the  frontier.  He 
saw  plenty  of  Indians,  but  they  were  always  friendly. 
Nevertheless,  as  though  with  an  instinctive  fore- 
warning of  what  the  future  had  in  store  for  him,  he 
gave  himself  to  a  most  careful  study  of  their  traits 
and  habits. 

This  —  like  the  pursuit  of  the  deer,  the  bear,  and 
the  wolf —  meant  hours  of  patient  traiHng  and  of 
hawk-like  watching  from  the  concealment  afforded 
by  thicket,  log,  and  stump.  It  was  a  fascinating 
game,  —  this  mimic  hunt  of  unsuspecting  warriors,  — 
and  it  aided  immeasurably  both  in  the  success  that 
Boone  afterwards  won  as  an  Indian  fighter,  and  in 


12      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

the  formation  of  his  character.  It  developed  in  him 
remarkable  powers  of  observation,  it  increased  his 
self-confidence  and  self-reliance,  and  it  accustomed 
him  to  the  exercise  of  great  self-control. 

Still  more,  it  awoke  a  desire  to  penetrate  to  those 
distant  wilds  whence  the  Indians  emerged,  as  by 
magic,  whenever  they  came  to  visit  the  Pennsylvania 
settlements.  To  spur  the  same  desire  was  the 
knowledge  that  the  game  which  he  was  so  fond  of 
hunting  was  rapidly  disappearing  from  Berks  County 
before  the  advance  of  civilized  man.  It  is  easy, 
therefore,  to  understand  the  satisfaction  with  which 
Boone  one  day  heard  his  father  announce  his  in- 
tention of  disposing  of  his  Pennsylvania  lands  and 
removing  to  the  Yadkin  Valley  in  North  Carolina, 
five  hundred  miles  and  more  to  the  southwest, 
one  of  the  richest  farming  sections  of  the  colonial 
South,  and,  at  that  time,  a  veritable  paradise  for 
game. 

Just  why  Squire  Boone  should  wish  to  abandon 
the  pleasant  home  which  he  had  built  up  with  such 
painful  effort,  does  not  appear.^     Nor  is  there  any- 

^  It  is  suggested  by  Dr.  Thwaites  that  possibly  Squire  Boone 
moved  from  Pennsylvania  because  "the  choicest  lands  of  eastern 
Pennsylvania  had  at  last  been  located,"  and  "the  outlook  for  the 
younger  Boones,  who  soon  would  need  homesteads,  did  not  appear 
encouraging."  But  this  seems  scarcely  an  adequate  explanation, 
particularly  in  view  of  the  great  fertility  of  the  Schuylkill  Valley, 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  13 

thing  to  show  why  he  chose  the  distant  Yadkin 
Valley  as  his  future  place  of  abode.  But  to  us  these 
are  matters  of  comparative  unimportance.  The 
great  point  is  that  the  removal  was  determined  on, 
and  that  its  outcome,  in  due  course  of  time,  was 
to  give  Daniel  Boone  an  unsurpassed  opportunity 
to  distinguish  himself  as  an  explorer  and  path-finder 
of  the  wilderness  —  an  opportunity  which  it  may 
safely  be  said  would  never  have  been  his  had  he 
remained  in  Berks. 

Some  time  in  the  spring  of  1750  the  start  for  North 
CaroHna  was  made,  the  caravan  of  canvas-covered 
wagons  that  carried  the  family  of  Squire  Boone  push- 
ing on  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  Harper's  Ferry  and 
the  Valley  of  Virginia,  that  magnificent  tableland 
which  extends  for  three  hundred  miles  between  the 

which  Squire  Boone  would  ordinarily  be  reluctant  to  abandon 
even  for  the  sake  of  the  "younger  Boones."  Perhaps  the  inrush  of 
-foreign"  immigrants,  of  the  non-English-speaking  Dunkards  and 
Mennonites  and  Schwenckfelders,  who  flocked  into  Berks  County 
between  the  years  1720  and  1750,  may  have  had  something  to  do 
with  his  removal.  Or  there  may  have  been  some  connection  be- 
tween the  removal  and  the  fact  that  both  Squire  Boone  and  his  son 
Israel  were  ''disowned"  by  the  Society  of  Friends  —  Squire  m 
1748,  or  but  two  years  before  his  departure  to  North  Carolina. 
There  was  by  no  means  a  general  Boone  exodus  from  the  vicinity. 
I  have  seen  a  list  of  Exeter  Township  taxables  for  1759,  and  in  it 
occur  the  names  of  Joseph,  James,  William,  Benjamin,  and  John 
Boone. 


14      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Blue  Ridge  and  the  Alleghanies  from  the  Potomac 
to  the  Iron  Mountains  in  the  extreme  southwest 
section  of  the  State  after  which  the  valley  is  named. 
Few  details  of  the  journey  have  been  preserved,  but 
it  is  known  that  Boone  acted  as  hunter  and  scout 
for  the  caravan,  and  that  the  valley's  charms  proved 
so  attractive  that  all  thoughts  of  haste  were  laid 
aside.  There  is  a  story,  though  based  only  on  tra- 
dition, that  the  travellers  camped  for  many  months, 
perhaps  even  for  a  year,  on  Linnville  Creek,  near 
Harrisonburg,  in  Rockingham  County,  Virginia. 
Wherever  they  lingered,  it  was  not  until  the  late 
autumn  of  175 1  that  they  crossed  the  Blue  Ridge  near 
the  dividing  line  between  Virginia  and  North  CaroHna 
and  found  themselves  within  striking  distance  of 
their   destination. 

This  was  reached  when  they  arrived  at  the  forks 
of  the  Yadkin,  in  Davie  County,  North  Carolina. 
Here,  as  Squire  Boone's  practised  eye  at  once  per- 
ceived, a  region  of  splendid  possibilities  from  a 
farming  standpoint  offered  itself  to  all  comers;  and 
casting  about,  he  soon  selected  a  claim  where  Dutch- 
man's Creek  empties  its  waters  into  the  North  Yadkin, 
and  once  more  began  the  arduous  task  of  con- 
quering the  forest  and  transforming  weedy  wastes 
into  profitable  fields. 

As  for  young  Daniel,  we  may  feel  confident  that 
whenever   the    opportunity  offered,  he   would    steal 


The  Youth  of  Daniel  Boone  15 

away  from  the  wood-chopping  and  the  ploughing  to 
enjoy  a  day's  hunt.  Although  a  century  and  a  half 
has  elapsed  since  the  crack  of  his  rifle  first  woke  the 
echoes  of  the  CaroHna  mountains,  the  Old  North 
State  can  still  offer  attractions  to  the  hunter  of  big 
game.  At  the  time  of  Boone's  coming  it  teemed, 
from  the  Piedmont  region  westward,  with  beasts  and 
birds  of  every  description.  The  buffalo,  the  elk, 
the  Virginia  deer,  the  bear,  the  panther,  the  wild- 
cat, wolf,  and  fox  wandered  through  the  meadows 
and  cane-brakes  about  its  rivers,  or  took  their  repose 
amid  the  cool  shades  of  its  rocky  heights.  Here, 
in  truth,  as  Boone  enthusiastically  told  his  father 
and  his  more  phlegmatic  brothers,  was  hunting 
worth  the  name. 

In  imagination  it  is  no  difficult  matter  to  see  him, 
his  five  foot  ten  of  sinewy,  buck-skinned  manhood 
stretched  at  full  length  behind  a  fallen  log,  finger 
on  trigger,  ear  alert,  blue  eyes  gleaming,  thin  lips 
doggedly  compressed,  a  healthy  glow  on  his  cheek. 
Or,  it  may  be,  cutting  his  way  through  a  tangle  of 
undergrowth,  leaping  silently  from  rock  to  rock 
across  the  bed  of  a  fast-running  mountain  stream, 
and  buoyantly  clambering  from  ridge  to  ridge  of 
some  bristling  mountain  wall.  Never,  they  say, 
was  there  such  a  hunter  on  the  Yadkin,  or  one  who 
so  enjoyed  the  hunter's  fife.  Young,  ardent,  tire- 
less,  burdened  with   few   cares   and   carrying  them 


i6      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

lightly,  Daniel  Boone  found  these  first  years  in  North 
Carolina  pleasant  indeed. 

But  the  time  for  a  rude  awakening  was  drawing 
near.  All  too  soon  he  would  have  the  realities  of 
life  thrust  upon  him,  would  discover  that  it  is  made 
up  of  something  besides  the  hunt,  the  feast,  and  the 
frolic.  For,  while  he  was  light-heartedly  tracking 
the  sullen  bear  to  its  lair,  and  merrily  dressing  the 
freshly  slain  venison,  the  clouds  of  a  terrible  war  were 
steadily  gathering  to  sweep  at  last  in  a  bloody  storm 
along  the  entire  frontier. 


CHAPTER  II 


boone's  first  campaign 


LATE  in  the  summer  of  1754,  or  about  the  time 
Squire  Boone  and  his  family  were  beginning 
to  feel  at  home  in  their  new  surroundings, 
startHng  news  reached  the  settlers  of  the  Yadkin 
Valley.  The  French,  it  seemed,  had  come  down 
from  Canada  into  the  Ohio  country,  and  had  built 
forts  there,  notwithstanding  that  England  laid  claim 
to  all  that  territory.  Governor  Dinwiddie,  of  Virginia, 
the  colony  most  interested  in  sustaining  the  English 
claim,  —  since,  indeed,  it  had  a  claim  of  its  own  to 
the  Ohio  country,  based  on  the  terms  of  its  ancient 
charter,  —  had  sent  troops  under  a  young  Virginia 
officer,  George  Washington,  to  build  forts  for  Eng- 
land and  dislodge  any  Frenchmen  that  might  be 
found.  There  had  been  a  short  but  spirited  con- 
flict. First  Washington  had  surprised,  attacked, 
and  defeated  a  French  force.  Then  he,  in  turn, 
had  been  attacked,  overwhelmed  by  numbers,  and 
compelled  to  capitulate,  being  permitted,  however, 
to  march  his  men  back  to  Virginia.  To  the  Yadkin 
Valley  people,  and  to  the  English  colonists  generally, 
this  sounded  very  much  as  though  war  were  inevitable, 
c  17 


1 8      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

The  prospect  was  not  altogether  displeasing  to 
the  younger  and  more  reckless  and  adventurous  set- 
tlers. But  those  of  mature  experience,  and  particu- 
larly the  dwellers  along  the  border,  viewed  it  with 
undisguised  alarm.  They  knew  only  too  well  the 
horrors  of  a  war  with  the  French  and  their  Indian 
allies  —  the  night  attack,  the  sanguinary  raid,  the 
scalpings,  the  torturings,  the  burnings.  And,  as 
the  graybeards  among  them  whispered  to  one  an- 
other, the  chances  were  that  the  impending  strug- 
gle would  outdo  in  bitterness  and  violence  every- 
thing that  had  preceded  it.  For  it  would  mean 
more,  far  more,  than  the  determination  of  owner- 
ship of  the  Ohio  Valley  —  it  would  determine  whether 
England  or  France  was  to  be  the  arbiter  of  the  destinies 
of  America,  and  whether  the  colonists  of  England 
were  to  remain  forever  cooped  up  in  the  narrow 
strip  of  territory  between  the  mountains  and  the  sea, 
or  should  be  free  to  pass  the  mountains  and  possess 
themselves  of  the  glorious  and  almost  unoccupied 
country  that  lay  beyond. 

This  was  the  question  at  issue,  a  question  of  pe- 
culiar interest  to  us,  studying,  as  we  are,  the  first 
phase  in  the  territorial  expansion  of  the  American 
people.  When  young  George  Washington  fired 
that  first  shot  of  the  French  and  Indian  War  in  the 
gloomy  depths  of  the  trans-Alleghany  glades,  he 
rang  the  curtain  up  on  the  last  act  of  one  of  the  most 


Boone's  First  Campaign  19 

fascinating  and  tragic  dramas  of  world-history, 
and  a  drama  that  had  been  in  progress  long  before 
Washington  or  any  other  colonist  of  Washington's 
time  had  seen  the  light  of  day.  Its  opening  act  — 
or,  more  accurately,  the  prologue  to  its  opening  act  — 
dated  as  far  back  as  the  first  settlement  of  America 
by  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen,  and  its  plot  was 
conditioned  from  the  outset  by  the  radically  different 
motives  that  brought  the  English  and  the  French 
into  the  New  World. 

The  English,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  had 
crossed  the  ocean  to  win  homes  for  themselves  in 
a  country  where  they  would  be  free  from  the  crush- 
ing disabilities  —  the  religious  persecutions,  political 
discriminations,  and  economic  inequalities  —  under 
which  they  had  labored  in  their  native  land.  The 
French  had  been  inspired  scarcely  at  all  by  the  home- 
building  spirit.  Desire  to  amass  wealth,  love  of 
adventure,  and  missionary  zeal  were  their  great 
motives.  As  a  consequence,  the  two  peoples  acted 
very  differently  when  they  reached  America.  The 
EngHsh  established  themselves  in  compact  settle- 
ments along  the  coast,  and  began  industriously 
to  till  the  soil.  The  French  gave  themselves  to 
exploring  and  fur-trading,  and  dispersed  far  and 
wide,  making  friends  of  the  Indians,  trafficking  with 
them,  and  Christianizing  them. 

In  less  than  a  decade  after  the  founding  of  Quebec, 


20      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

a  French  missionary  friar  of  the  Recollet  order  was 
laboring  among  the  Lake  Huron  savages.  Only 
a  few  years  more,  and  the  daring  young  Norman, 
Jean  Nicolet,  had  penetrated  as  far  west  as  Wisconsin. 
A  little  later,  and  before  the  close  of  the  first  half  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  the  black-gowned  Jesuits 
were  planting  the  Cross  among  the  Indians  of  Sault 
Ste.  Marie.  In  a  word,  France  was  rapidly  establish- 
ing a  title  to  the  ownership  of  the  vast  interior  region 
of  the  North  American  continent. 

All  this  time  the  English  colonists  had  made  next 
to  no  progress  so  far  as  territorial  expansion  was 
concerned,  their  "farthest  west"  as  late  as  1660 
being  only  a  few  miles  from  the  coast,  in  the  upper 
valley  of  the  Connecticut.  But,  as  the  authorities 
in  Quebec  saw  clearly  enough,  they  were  rapidly 
outdistancing  the  inhabitants  of  New  France  in 
point  of  population,  the  increase  being  at  the  rate 
of  nearly  thirty  to  one  in  favor  of  the  English.  This 
meant  that,  if  they  continued  to  increase  in  the  same 
proportion,  it  could  only  be  a  question  of  time  before 
they  would  overflow  into  territory  claimed  by  France. 
In  fact,  there  had  already  been  an  armed  invasion 
of  Arcadia  by  volunteer  soldiers  from  New  England. 

Louis  XIV,  king  of  France,  vigorously  attacked 
the  problem  thus  presented  to  him,  dissolving,  in 
1663,  the  colonization  company  that  had  hitherto 
mismanaged  the  aff'airs  of  New  France  and  sending 


Boone's  First  Campaign  21 

out  rulers  of  his  own  choosing,  men  who  were,  like 
King  Louis  himself,  zealous  to  exalt  the  fleur-de-lis. 
Chief  among  these  were  the  famous  Talon  and  the 
still  more  famous  Frontenac. 

Under    their    leadership    there    at   once    began    a 
systematic    development    of   what    historians    have 
called    the    "hinterland    movement."      It    involved 
nothing  less  than  the  exploration  and  occupation  of 
the  entire  Mississippi  Valley,  and  the  construction 
of  a  chain  of  forts  and  trading-stations  designed  to 
connect  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  with  the  mouth 
of  the   St.    Lawrence,    and   to   oppose   an   effectual 
barrier  to  the  English  colonists  if  they  attempted  to 
cross  the  mountain  wall  that  stretched  for  hundreds 
of  miles  between  the  coastal  strip  and  the  Mississippi 
country.     A  beginning,  and  a  magnificent  beginnmg, 
was  made  to  this  ambitious    project  with    the  ex- 
plorations of  Marquette  and   Joliet,   La   Salle  and 
Tonti,   Iberville   and   Bienville.      And   at  the   same 
time,  both  to  weaken  the  English  and  to  divert  their 
attention   from   these  inland   operations,   the   rulers 
of  New   France   embarked   on   a    poHcy   of  armed 
aggression,  enlisting  the  services  of  Indian  allies  for 
a  series  of  murderous  border  raids. 

Thus  opened  in  1689  the  memorable  Seventy 
Years'  War.  You  will  not  find  it  under  that  name 
in  the  histories,  where  it  is  usually  treated  as  a  suc- 
cession of  different  wars,   called   respectively   King 


22      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

William's  War,  Queen  Anne's  War,  King  George's 
War,  and  the  French  and  Indian  War.  All  these, 
however,  were  parts  of  one  and  the  same  conflict, 
broken  by  intermittent  truces,  such  as  the  Peace  of 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  which  lasted  just  long  enough  for 
the  combatants  to  recover  their  breath.  Up  to  the 
French  and  Indian  War  the  EngHsh  colonists  were, 
in  the  main,  left  to  fight  their  battles  by  themselves 
—  a  circumstance  which  had  not  a  little  to  do  with 
weakening  their  attachment  to  the  mother  country. 
But  they  more  than  held  their  own  with  the  French, 
and  steadily  extended  their  settlements  closer  to 
the  mountain  wall,  even  venturing  upon  explora- 
tions in  the  forbidden  country  on  the  other  side  of  it. 
Finally  a  day  came  when  the  supreme  trial  of 
strength  could  no  longer  be  avoided.  In  1748, 
the  year  of  the  signing  of  the  Treaty  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  a  company  was  organized  in  Virginia  for 
the  express  purpose  of  planting  an  English  colony 
in  the  Ohio  Valley,  and  in  the  same  year  English 
settlers  raised  their  cabins  on  the  banks  of  the  Green- 
brier River  in  West  Virginia,  the  first  of  that  race 
to  make  a  home  on  a  west-flowing  American  stream. 
At  once  the  French  took  alarm,  and  the  following 
year  sent  a  representative,  Celoron  de  Bienville,  to 
traverse  the  Ohio  Valley  and  take  formal  possession 
of  it  in  the  name  of  the  king  of  France,  driving  out 
all  English  settlers  and  traders  encountered  by  him, 


Boone's  First  Campaign  23 

and  making  sure  of  the  allegiance  of  the  native  in- 
habitants. But  Celoron's  expedition  was  of  little 
effect,  the  English  traders  among  the  Indian  villages 
of  the  Ohio  paying  no  attention  to  his  warnings  and 
threats,  and  the  Indians  showing  themselves  for  the 
moment  none  too  well  disposed  towards  the  French. 

The  situation  was  completely  changed,  however, 
by  the  arrival  at  Quebec  of  a  new  governor,  the 
Marquis  Duquesne  de  Menneville,  who  brought 
with  him  the  most  positive  instructions  to  vindicate 
the  title  to  the  Mississippi  Valley  claimed  by  France 
by  virtue  of  La  Salle's  discoveries,  and  of  possession 
as  exemplified  in  the  old  French  trading-stations 
in  the  lUinois  country  and  elsewhere.  In  accordance 
with  these  instructions,  Duquesne  sent  out  a  body 
of  troops  to  construct  and  garrison  a  number  of 
forts  along  the  alleged  boundary-line  between  the 
dominions  of  the  two  rival  Powers.  It  was  this  that 
had  occasioned  the  expedition  commanded  by  Wash- 
ington, and  it  was  thus  that,  after  more  than  half  a 
century  of  indecisive  warfare.  Frenchman  and  EngUsh- 
man  at  last  stood  face  to  face,  conscious  that  the  time 
had  arrived  for  a  fight  to  the  death. 

All  through  the  winter  of  1754-55,  following 
Washington's  defeat,  there  were  intimations  of  the 
approaching  storm.  The  Ohio  Indians,  and  par- 
ticularly the  Shawnees,  showed  themselves  hostile 
to  the  English  traders,  who  promptly  took  refuge 


24      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

in  the  older  settlements  east  of  the  mountains.  The 
Indians  of  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  hitherto,  as  a  rule, 
on  friendly  terms  with  the  white  settlers,  became 
sullen  and  treacherous,  and  ultimately  withdrew 
altogether  from  the  valley,  to  return  to  it  only  as 
frenzied,  blood-thirsting  raiders.  Here  and  there, 
along  the  border,  were  occasional  outbreaks,  swift 
and  sudden  descents  which  left  a  faint,  but  still 
significant,  trail  of  blood  and  ashes.  The  Yadkin 
country,  where  the  Boones  dwelt,  was  practically 
free  from  such  alarms,  for  it  was  only  at  a  later  date 
that  the  Indians  of  the  South  took  the  war-path 
in  the  interests  of  the  French.  But  with  reports  of 
murder  and  rapine  coming  to  them  from  none  too 
distant  quarters,  the  settlers  along  the  Yadkin  awaited 
anxiously  the  news  of  the  raising  of  a  punitive  ex- 
pedition strong  enough  to  suppress  the  pernicious 
activities  of  the  French  and  their  Indians. 

Among  those  most  ardently  hopeful  that  such  an 
expedition  would  soon  be  organized  was  Daniel 
Boone.  It  is  said,  in  fact,  that  he  was  so  eager  to 
be  up  and  at  the  enemy  that  he  hurried  to  Pennsyl- 
vania and  passed  the  winter  in  scout  duty  on  its 
exposed  frontier.  This  is  not  impossible,  but  it  is 
rather  unlikely,  for  it  was  only  on  occasions  of  ex- 
treme crisis  that  the  frontiersmen  of  that  time  were 
wont  to  rally  to  the  protection  of  a  remote  locality. 
They  were  too  well  aware  that  at  any  moment  the 


Boone's  First  Campaign  25 

foe  might  strike  an  unexpected  blow  at  their  own 
homes,  and  they  had  no  fancy  to  leave  their  loved 
ones  at  the  mercy  of  the  painted  savage.  This, 
rather  than  callous  indifference  to  the  sufferings  of 
others,  is  the  true  explanation  of  the  absence  of  united 
action  on  the  part  of  the  people  of  the  border  in  times 
of  war  —  although,  it  is  proper  to  add,  it  scarcely 
suffices  to  explain  the  dissension  manifest  among 
the  colonists  generally  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  the  Seventy  Years'  War,  and  at  all  times 
handicapping  greatly  the  operations  against  the 
French. 

Nor  does  it  altogether  explain  why  North  Carolina, 
when  the  call  finally  came  for  volunteers  to  aid 
in  avenging  Washington's  defeat  and  driving  the 
French  back  to  Canada,  sent  a  scant  hundred 
men  to  represent  her,  under  the  command  of  Cap- 
tain Edward  B.  Dobbs,  son  of  the  governor  of  the 
province.^ 

With  this  North  Carolina  contingent  went  Daniel 
Boone.  He  was  then  less  than  twenty-one  years  old, 
and  was   probably  the  youngest  among  the  entire 

^  It  has  been  quite  generally  believed  that  there  were  two  com- 
panies from  North  Carolina  in  the  Braddock  expedition,  one  under 
Dobbs,  and  another  under  Captain  Hugh  Waddell,  but  as  Mr. 
\.  A.  Ashe  has  shown  in  his  recently  published  "History  of  North 
Carolina,"  Waddell's  company  did  not  join  Braddock,  but  served 
fas  a  guard  along  the  North  Carolina  frontier. 


26      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

hundred,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  backwoodsmen 
like  himself.  By  forced  marches  the  little  regiment 
made  its  way  northward  until,  some  time  in  May, 
1755,  it  arrived  at  Fort  Cumberland,  which  had  been 
built  only  the  previous  autumn  at  the  juncture, 
in  western  Maryland,  of  Wills  Creek  and  the  Potomac 
River.  It  was  from  this  point  that  the  punitive 
expedition  planned  to  march  against  the  French 
stronghold  of  Fort  Duquesne,  at  the  forks  of  the 
Ohio,  where  Pittsburg  stands  to-day. 

Although  the  distance  from  Fort  Cumberland  to 
Fort  Duquesne  was  only  eighty  miles  as  the  crow 
flies,  the  way  led  through  an  almost  trackless  wilder- 
ness of  mountain  and  forest,  river  and  swamp,  so 
difficult  that  the  French  were  confident  the  Endish 

o 

could  never  traverse  it. 

They  did  not  take  into  their  reckoning  the  com- 
mander chosen  to  lead  the  expedition  against  them, 
a  typical  English  bull-dog  named  Edward  Braddock, 
a  soldier  of  many  European  campaigns,  of  a  brutal 
and  domineering  disposition,  but  conceded  even  by 
his  enemies  to  be  a  man  of  dauntless  courage. 
General  Braddock  had  been  despatched  from  Eng- 
land with  two  regiments  —  the  Forty-fourth  and  the 
Forty-eighth  —  for  the  special  purpose  of  establish- 
ing English  sovereignty  in  the  valley  of  the  Ohio,  and 
he  had  already  given  signal  proof  of  his  masterfulness 
by  the  way  in  which  he  succeeded  in  wringing  troops 


Boone's  First  Campaign  27 

and  supplies  from  reluctant  colonial  authorities.* 
His  one  great  defect  was  a  stubborn  self-will,  so 
extreme  as  to  render  him  deaf  to  suggestions,  im- 
movable in  his  own  beUefs  and  decisions,  and  in- 
capable, as  was  fatally  demonstrated,  of  knowing 
when  he  was  beaten. 

It  was  also  unfortunate — though  not  at  all  ex- 
ceptional, for  the  feeling  was  shared  by  almost  every 
EngUsh  officer  who  played  any  prominent  part  in 
the  French  and  Indian  War  — that  he  betrayed 
an  open  contempt  for  the  colonial  troops.  Besides 
the  two  regiments  of  regulars  and  a  detachment  of 
marines,  his  wilderness  army  eventually  included 
volunteers  from  New  York,  Maryland,  Virginia 
(four  hundred  and  fifty  picked  marksmen,  under 
Washington),  and  the  Carolinas.  Of  these  he  spoke 
and  wrote  in  most  slighting  terms,  lamenting  that 

^  Until  recently  it  has  been  customary  to  sneer  at  Braddock  and 
abuse  him  unsparingly,  placing  at  his  door  all  responsibility  of 
the  crushing  defeat  in  the  Turtle  Creek  ravine.  But  modern  re- 
search has  made  it  clear  that  had  it  not  been  for  colonial  back- 
wardness in  cooperating  with  him,  history  might  have  had  an 
altogether  different  story  to  tell.  Explicit  instructions  had  been 
sent  by  the  Home  Government,  requiring  the  raising  of  troops  and 
money,  the  procuring  of  supplies,  and  the  opening  of  roads,  prior 
to  Braddock's  arrival  in  America.  So  little  attention  was  paid  to 
these  instructions  that  Braddock  was  obliged  to  organize  the  ex- 
pedition practically  single-handed.  This  meant  a  loss  of  much 
valuable  time. 


28      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

their  "slothful  and  languid  disposition  renders  them 
very  unfit  for  military  service/'  Naturally,  lan- 
guage such  as  this  —  and  the  volunteers  doubtless 
heard  its  equivalent  in  blunter  phraseology  —  would 
not  tend  to  make  him  a  popular  commander;  nor 
v^ould  the  severity  with  which  he  drilled  them,  day 
after  day,  in  the  open  space  about  Fort  Cumberland. 

Still,  being  fair-minded  men,  they  unquestionably 
would  set  down  to  his  credit  his  evident  desire  to 
make  the  expedition  a  success  in  every  particular; 
and  they  also  would  not  overlook  the  fact  that  he  had 
paid  them  the  compliment  of  selecting  the  popular 
young  George  Washington  as  one  of  his  chief  staff 
officers.  Besides  they  saw  clearly  enough  that, 
whatever  his  faults,  Braddock  was  of  fighting  stuff, 
and  could  be  depended  upon  to  satisfy  their  desire 
to  come  to  close  grips  with  the  French.  So  that  it 
is  likely  they  took  a  more  favorable  view  of  him 
than  many  who  did  not  know  him  at  all  have  since 
done.  At  any  rate,  they  responded  with  alacrity 
when,  early  in  June,  the  command  was  given  to 
break  camp  and  begin  the  march  to  Fort  Duquesne. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  the  details  of  this 
journey  across  the  mountains,  by  a  path  so  narrow 
that  a  regiment  of  engineers  and  woodchoppers  had 
to  lead  the  way  and  build  a  road  which  in  after 
years,  under  the  name  of  "Braddock's  Road,"  was 
to  become  one  of  the  great  arteries  of  communication 


Boone's  First  Campaign  29 

between  the  East  and  the  early  West.  What  is  of 
importance,  from  our  point  of  view,  is  to  note  that 
Daniel  Boone,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  accom- 
pany his  North  Carolina  comrades,  was  compelled 
to  follow  humbly  in  the  rear  of  the  long,  winding 
procession,  having  been  assigned  to  the  duties  of 
a  wagoner  and  mechanic,  on  the  strength  of  his 
blacksmithing  experience.  This  was  not  making 
war  as  he  had  dreamed  of  making  it.  Yet  it  had 
its  compensations. 

Not  the  least  of  these  was  the  opportunity  it  gave 
him  for  long  talks  with  men  who,  as  hunters  or 
traders,  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  Indian 
country  beyond  the  mountains  through  which  Brad- 
dock's  column  was  slowly  toiling.  Most  of  all  he 
took  pleasure  in  the  astonishing  tales  of  a  certain 
John  Finley,  who,  for  the  sake  of  barter  with  the 
savages,  had  visited  their  villages  on  the  Ohio,  and 
had  even  penetrated  into  regions  more  remote.  To 
Boone's  eager  demand  whether  good  hunting  was 
to  be  had,  Finley  rephed  that  the  hunting  there, 
particularly  in  the  country  south  of  the  Ohio,  was 
the  best  in  the  world. 

Two  years  before,  he  then  explained,  he  had 
visited  this  country,  and  had  found  it  a  second 
Garden  of  Eden,  blessed  with  the  richest  of  soils 
and  the  balmiest  of  cHmates,  with  noble  forests  and 
luxuriant  expanses,  where  thousands  of  buffalo  and 


30      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

other  big  game  browsed.  The  Indians  called  this 
wonderful  country  "Kentucky,"  and  preser\ed  it  as 
a  hunting-ground  nominally  open  to  all.  So  bitter, 
though,  were  the  tribal  animosities  and  jealousies 
that  as  often  as  not  hunting-parties  were  transformed 
into  war-parties  at  a  moment's  notice,  and  Kentucky 
became  the  scene,  not  of  a  hunt,  but  of  a  battle. 
Hence,  for  all  its  beauty,  it  was  a  dark  and  bloody 
land,  and  one  where  the  white  man  would  instantly 
be  deemed  an  interloper.  Finley  himself,  it  appeared, 
had  been  obHged  to  return  to  the  settlements  sooner 
than  he  desired,  because  of  the  evident  resentment 
of  the  Indians  at  his  having  dared  to  visit  Kentucky. 
Fascinated,  Boone  absorbed  his  companion's 
word-pictures.  Neither  of  them  realized  that,  as 
they  trudged  along  side  by  side,  or  chatted  together 
in  the  quiet  of  the  evening,  they  were  making  history 
of  a  world-wide  interest.  Not  for  a  moment  did 
they  dream  that  their  chance  meeting  in  Braddock's 
ill-starred  campaign  was  to  be  the  means  of  bring- 
ing one  of  them  imperishable  renown.  They  only 
knew  that  they  had  taken  a  warm  liking  to  each 
other,  and  that  in  Kentucky  they  had  found  a  theme 
of  mutual  interest.  Both  of  them  were  young,  con- 
fident, and  high-spirited.  The  daring  of  Boone 
found  counterpart  in  the  Scotch-Irish  ardor  of 
Finley.  And  thus  it  came  about  that  from  discussing 
Kentucky  they  passed  to  planning  a  journey  to  it. 


Boone's  First  Campaign  31 

From  North  Carolina,  Finley  told  Boone,  it  could 
be  reached  by  an  Indian  trail  that  ran  northwestward 
until  it  left  the  mountains  at  Cumberland  Gap. 
There  was  yet  another  route  by  canoe  down  the 
Ohio  River  to  the  mouth  of  a  stream  which  itself 
bore  the  name  of  Kentucky  and  watered  the 
delectable  land.  Perhaps  after  the  French  had 
been  driven  from  Fort  Duquesne  they  might  find 
opportunity   to   voyage   to    Kentucky    by   the   river 

route. 

In  this,  however,  as  they  were  all  too  soon  made 
aware,  they  were  doomed  to  bitter  disappointment. 
The  farther  Braddock's  expedition  advanced,  the 
slower  its  progress  became,  until  the  stern-faced 
backwoodsmen  themselves  began  to  fear  that  the 
goal  would  never  be  reached,  and  that  the  confidence 
of  the  French  in  the  inaccessibility  of  their  position 
would  be  justified.  But  Braddock,  bull-dog  Brad- 
dock,  refused  to  turn  back.  For  once,  though,  he 
listened  to  the  advice  of  others,  and  on  Washington's 
suggestion  split  his  column  in  two,  leaving  the  less 
able-bodied  troops  to  act  as  a  reserve.  Thus  relieved, 
he  again  pushed  towards  Fort  Duquesne,  but  still 
at  so  slow  a  pace  that  Washington,  burning  with 
impatience  as  well  as  with  a  fever  which  had  for 
a  time  totally  incapacitated  him,  afterwards  com- 
plained that  instead  of  proceeding  vigorously  "they 
were  halting  to  level  every  mole-hill,  and  to  erect 


32      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

bridges  over  every  brook,  by  which  means  we  were 
four  days  in  getting  twelve  miles.'' 

Nevertheless,  the  very  fact  that  he  was  able  to 
advance  his  troops  the  twelve  miles,  was  sufficient 
proof  that  Braddock  was  accomplishing  what  many 
had  declared  to  be  impossible.  In  Fort  Duquesne 
the  news  of  his  approach  caused  great  dismay. 
Expected  reenforcements  had  failed  to  arrive,  and 
the  commandant,  Contrecoeur,  could  see  no  way 
to  avoid  a  surrender,  especially  after  the  discovery 
that  his  Indians  were  panic-stricken  at  the  enemy's 
successful  passage  of  the  mountains.  There  was 
no  use,  he  told  himself,  in  offering  resistance;  he 
would  simply  be  overwhelmed. 

Thoroughly  despondent,  he  shook  his  head  hope- 
lessly when  one  of  his  young  captains,  a  daredevil 
named  Beaujeu,  asked  leave  to  take  troops  and 
Indians,  and  make  a  last-ditch  stand  against  the 
English,  then  less  than  ten  miles  from  the  fort. 
The  Indians,  Contrecoeur  feared,  would  not  lend 
their  aid,  and  he  had  no  wish  to  see  his  garrison  cut 
to  pieces. 

But  Beaujeu  was  as  shrewd  as  he  was  brave. 
Donning  savage  costume,  painting  himself,  and 
throwing  an  Indian  gorget  about  his  neck  for  good 
luck,  he  visited  the  encampment  where  the  red  men 
were  gloomily  awaiting  the  capitulation. 

"  Brothers,"  cried  he,  "  I  am  told  that  you  refuse 


Boone's  First  Campaign  33 

to  march  with  me  against  the  enemy.  But  I  will 
face  the  foe,  even  if  I  must  go  alone.  And  that,  I 
know,  you  will  never  suffer.  Come !  Up  and 
follow  me ! '' 

For  a  moment,  silence.  Then  a  mad  outburst  of 
shouts  and  cheers.  If  it  be  true,  as  has  been  said, 
that  the  great  Ottawa  war  lord,  Pontiac,  was  at 
Fort  Duquesne  that  day,  there  is  no  need  to  seek 
further  for  the  first  chieftain  to  respond  to  Beaujeu's 
gallant  appeal. 

Headlong  down  the  narrow  trail  to  the  Monon- 
gahela  the  young  captain  raced  at  top  speed,  fol- 
lowed by  a  motley  host  of  Indians,  Canadians,  and 
French  regulars,  some  eight  hundred  in  all.  It 
was  then  high  noon  of  the  9th  of  July.  Between 
two  and  three  o'clock  on  the  upland  trail  in  the  midst 
of  the  Turtle  Creek  ravine,  they  encountered  the 
English. 

Beaujeu,  coming  unexpectedly  on  Braddock's 
engineers,  who  were  busy  at  their  road-building, 
stopped  short  and  waved  his  hat.  Instantly  the 
Indians,  leaping  to  this  side  and  that,  buried  them- 
selves in  the  dense  thickets  that  encumbered  the 
trail.  Then,  as  the  retreating  engineers  and  the 
advancing  main  body  of  the  English  came  together 
in  a  confused  mass  on  the  narrow  trail,  the  rain  of 
bullets  began  —  thick,  fast,  deadly. 

In  vain   Braddock  tried  to  form  his  men  for  a 


34 


Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 


charge  that  should  clear  the  underbrush  of  the  hid- 
den foe.  The  first  attack  had  completely  disorgan- 
ized his  regulars;  while  the  colonial  troops,  skilled 
Indian  fighters  all,  had  instinctively  broken  ranks 
and  begun  fighting  from  cover.  Braddock's  men, 
falling  like  leaves  in  an  autumn  gale,  sought  to  profit 
by  their  example;  but  Braddock  himself,  notwith- 
standing the  expostulations  of  Washington,  beat 
them  back  into  the  open  with  the  flat  of  his  sword, 
vainly  urging  them  to  form  and  charge. 

He  was  demanding  the  unattainable.  Time  and 
again,  in  little  squads  that  offered  a  splendid  target 
to  the  French  and  Indian  marksmen,  the  redcoats 
plunged  into  the  ravine,  many  of  them  never  more 
to  regain  the  trail. 

Beaujeu  had  fallen  almost  at  the  first  fire,  but  now 
there  were  many  eager  to  take  his  place,  and  the 
allies  did  not  lack  for  leadership.  Braddock,  for 
his  part,  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  until  at 
last  he  too  dropped  with  a  mortal  wound.  Sir 
Peter  Halket,  second  in  command,  lay  dead,  with  the 
corpse  of  his  son  lying  across  his  own.  Still  the 
rain  of  bullets  continued,  and  still  the  doomed  army 
battled  magnificently  in  a  vain  effort  to  stave  off 
the  inevitable.  When,  however,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, the  retreat  was  ordered,  a  natural  reaction 
set  in ;  and,  seized  with  an  insane  panic,  the  survivors 
fled  back  to  the  reserves. 


Boone's  First  Campaign  35 

Beyond  the  Monongahela,  which  was  recrossed 
by  but  a  pitiful  fraction  of  the  advance  column, 
there  was  no  pursuit;  but  still  they  fled.  And, 
their  terror  infecting  the  reserves,  the  panic  grew, 
until  finally  all  the  remnants  of  Braddock's  beaten 
army  were  in  full  flight,  stumbHng  and  staggering 
along  the  rugged  road  towards  the  protecting  stockade 
of  Fort  Cumberland. 

What  Daniel  Boone  was  doing  all  this  time,  we 
have  no  means  of  knowing.  But  now,  for  a  moment, 
we  catch  a  glimpse  of  him  among  the  fugitives,  on 
the  back  of  one  of  his  wagon-horses,  galloping  at  top 
speed.  It  was  hardly  a  glorious  ending  to  his  first 
campaign,  and  his  bitterness  and  chagrin  can  readily 
be  imagined.  Yet  he  would  have  found  ample  con- 
solation could  he  but  have  pierced  the  veil  of  the 
future  and  beheld  the  notable  events,  growing  directly 
or  indirectly  out  of  this  disastrous  experience,  in 
which  he  was  to  fill  the  leading  role. 


CHAPTER  III 

DARK    DAYS    ON    THE    BORDER 

THE  immediate  result  of  Braddock's  defeat  was 
to  expose  the  frontier  to  all  the  horrors  of  In- 
dian warfare.  Colonel  Dunbar,  who  had  suc- 
ceeded to  the  command,  in  the  face  of  frantic  protests 
by  the  frontiersmen  of  Virginia,  Maryland,  and  Penn- 
sylvania, hurried  his  surviving  regulars  from  Fort 
Cumberland  to  comfortable  quarters  in  Philadelphia, 
and  left  the  savage  allies  of  the  French  at  Hberty  to 
harass  and  plunder  the  outlying  settlements.  Only 
George  Washington,  then  as  ever  a  heroic  figure  in 
the  annals  of  the  country,  remained  to  organize  the 
unhappy  border  folk  into  some  semblance  of  an 
effective  military  force. 

Braddock's  Road,  which  it  had  been  so  fondly 
hoped  would  prove  a  highway  to  the  mastery  of  the 
Ohio  Valley,  now  formed  a  dread  line  of  communi- 
cation between  the  victorious  French  and  the  help- 
less settlers.  At  an  early  day  following  the  disaster 
in  the  ravine,  the  commandant  of  Fort  Duquesne 
could  truthfully  report  that  he  had  destroyed  the 
border  settlements  over  a  tract  of  country  thirty 
leagues  wide,  reckoning  from  the  line  of  Fort  Cum- 

36 


Dark  Days  on  the  Border  37 

berland,  and  that  the  villages  of  his  Indians  were 

full  of  prisoners.  .     •      i.     n  .^ 

Even  in  the  extreme  South  -  that  is,  in  the  Caro- 
linas   and   Georgia  -  there  were   rumors   that   the 
t-^e  bribes,   and   more  especially  the  Cherokees 
were  growing  restive,  and  were  likely  to  take  th 
war-path  at  any  time.    This  led  to  the  bmld.ng  of 
several  stockaded  forts  of  the  type  which  Mr.  James 
Lane  Allen  has  aptly  called  "rustic  castles.       Both 
rustic  and  castle-like  they  looked    with  their  stou 
sharply    pointed,    twelve-foot    palisades    and    their 
href-storied  blockhouses.    One,  Fort  Prince  George 
stood  on  the  upper  waters  of  the  Savannah  Riv, 
near  its  source;  another,  Fort  Loudon,  on  the  Little 
Tennessee,  about  thirty  miles  from  the  P-sent  town 
of  KnoxviUe;    a  third.  Fort  Dobbs,  not  far  below 
the  forks  of  the  Yadkin.    These  three  forts  guarded 
the  approach  from  the  southwest,  and  all  of  them 
were  garrisoned   to   a   fair   strength.     After  which 
the  Southern  borderers  quietly  awaited  the  develop- 

ment  of  events.  , 

Soon,  nothing  untoward  occurring,  they  resumed 

their  pastoral  mode  of  life,  cultivating  their  farms 

and  herding  their  sheep  and  cattle  as  usual.  To 
ht  the  Yadkin  Valley  settlers  Darnel  Boone  among 

them  -  for  he  had  returned  home  immediately 
after 'the  fatal  ending  of  the  Braddock  campaign,  - 
proved  no  exception.     Boone  himself,  with  an  un- 


^S      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

wonted  energy  and  steadfastness,  lent  a  hand  in 
the  daily  tasks  of  his  father's  farm,  ploughing,  seed- 
ing, and  harvesting  with  the  utmost  diligence.  For 
the  present,  chastened  by  his  experiences  with  Brad- 
dock,  he  had  lost  all  disposition  to  roam,  and  if  he 
still  secretly  cherished  the  dreams  that  had  been  in- 
spired by  Finley's  romantic  stories,  he  rigorously 
subdued  them.  Besides,  he  was  now  urged  to  earnest 
effort  by  the  greatest  of  human  motives,  for  he  had 
fallen  in  love. 

In  the  Yadkin  settlements,  at  the  forks  of  the 
Yadkin,  and  thus  quite  near  the  Boone  homestead, 
lived  a  Scotch-Irish  family  of  Bryans,  a  simple, 
primitive  people,  of  strong  passions  and  big  hearts. 
Among  the  younger  Bryans  was  a  black-eyed,  rosy- 
cheeked  lass  named  Rebecca,  who  made  a  conquest 
of  Daniel  Boone  almost  at  first  sight.  She  was  only 
fifteen  when  they  plighted  their  troth,  and  but  two 
years  older  when  Daniel's  father,  in  his  capacity 
of  justice  of  the  peace,  read  the  service  that  made 
them  man  and  wife.  For  a  time  they  found  a  home 
in  a  rude  cabin  on  the  Boone  farm,  but  before  long 
Daniel  set  up  a  cabin  of  his  own  on  land  a  few  miles 
distant.  Here,  the  following  year,  a  son,  James, 
was  born  to  them ;  and  two  years  afterwards  another 
son,  whom  they  named  Israel. 

Meanwhile  the  proud  husband  and  father  toiled 
like  the  proverbial  beaver,  sowing  and  reaping  his 


Dark  Days  on  the  Border  39 

crops,  raising  livestock,  hunting  wild  animals  for 
the  sake  of  their  meat  and  furs,  and  occasionally 
adding  to  his  always  meagre  income  by  serving  as 
a  wagoner  in  one  of  the  caravans  that  from  time  to 
time  wound  through  the  foot-hills  to  the  markets 
of  the  coast,  where  the  backwoods  products  were 
exchanged  for  salt  and  iron  and  other  necessaries. 
Some  smithing  he  did  also,  and  possibly  took  his 
turn  at  the  loom,  as  he  had  done  in  the  by-gone  days 
of  his  boyhood  In  Pennsylvania. 

Thus  he  passed  his  time,  happily  and  hopefully, 
if  laboriously,  until  the  early  spring  of  1759,  the 
year  which  before  its  close  witnessed  the  historic 
battle  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  when  Wolfe,  by 
the  conquest  of  Quebec,  sounded  the  death-knell 
of  French  authority  in  America.  All  through  the 
winter  there  had  been  signs  that  the  Carolina  frontiers 
could  not  expect  much  longer  to  escape  the  fury  of 
the  Indians.  In  1758  the  Cherokees,  instigated  by 
French  emissaries  and  also  influenced  by  a  well- 
grounded  fear  that  the  EngHsh  intended  some  day 
to  possess  themselves  of  the  tribal  lands  on  the  Little 
Tennessee,  had  gone  raiding  In  the  Valley  of  Virginia 
with  deadly  results.  In  April,  1759,  they  forced 
an  entrance  into  the  fertile  Yadkin  and  Catawba 
valleys,  destroyed  crops,  burned  cabins,  murdered 
settlers,  and  dragged  their  wives  and  children  into 
a  cruel  captivity. 


40      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

So  sudden  and  severe  was  the  blow  that  the  stricken 
people  had  no  opportunity  to  rally  for  an  organized 
resistance,  much  less  undertake  an  oflFensive  cam- 
paign. Abandoning  their  farms,  they  hastened  for 
shelter  to  the  strong  stockade  of  Fort  Dobbs,  or  to 
hurriedly  constructed  '* houses  of  refuge";  or  else, 
if  they  could  possibly  find  the  means  to  do  so,  fled 
with  all  their  belono;ino^s  to  the  settlements  in  the 
tide-water  country.  This  was  the  course  followed 
by  the  Boones,  or  at  least  by  Squire  Boone,  his  son 
Daniel,  and  their  respective  families.  Squire,  it  is 
said,  went  to  Maryland.  Daniel  took  Rebecca  and 
their  infant  children  to  eastern  Virginia,  where  he 
found  employment  at  his  old  occupation  of  wagoner. 

It  was  not  in  his  nature,  however,  to  remain  in 
a  stranger's  land,  and  leave  to  others  the  task  of 
defending  his  hearth  and  home.  So  soon  as  he  had 
satisfied  himself  that  his  little  family  would  not  be 
exposed  to  want,  he  returned  to  the  border,  where  he 
found  thrilling  events  in  progress.  The  Cherokees 
had  laid  a  desperate  siege  to  Fort  Dobbs,  but  had 
been  gallantly  beaten  oflF  by  its  garrison  under  the 
command  of  Colonel  Hugh  Waddell,  one  of  the 
foremost  Indian  fighters  of  his  day.  They  had 
then  renewed  their  depredations  in  small  war-parties, 
ultimately  gathering  in  force  to  attack  Fort  Prince 
George. 

In  the  meantime  a  British    army  officer,  Colonel 


Dark  Days  on  the  Border  41 

Montgomery,  had  organized  a  strong  punitive  ex- 
pedition. It  included  two  regiments  of  regulars, 
fresh  from  their  victories  in  Canada,  and  several 
hundred  Carolina  bacWoodsmen,  led  by  Waddell. 
With  Waddell  went  Daniel  Boone.  A  swift  march 
to  Fort  Prince  George  resulted  in  its  instant  relief, 
and  the  destruction  of  a  number  of  Cherokee  villages 
in  the  country  round  about  it.  At  one  of  these, 
Little  Keowee,  the  troops  effected  a  night  surprise, 
and  tradition  has  it  that  not  one  of  the  warriors 
found  there  was  left  alive.  Then  Montgomery 
hurried  his  soldiers  across  the  mountains,  resolved 
to  deal  a  decisive  blow  to  the  more  important  Indian 
towns  on  the  Little  Tennessee. 

But  he  had  underestimated  the  desperate  valor  of 
the  Cherokees,  now  fighting  for  their  very  existence. 
Although  the  English  column  was  almost  two  thou- 
sand strong,  they  did  not  hesitate  to  lay  an  ambush 
for  it.  Beneath  the  fragrant  laurels  and  behind  the 
mossy  rocks  of  a  steep  mountain  road  they  hid 
themselves,  while  their  spies  kept  them  constantly 
informed  of  the  approach  of  the  unsuspecting  soldiers. 
Not  a  rifle  cracked,  not  a  war-whoop  was  heard 
until  the  invaders  were  well  within  the  trap  set  for 
them.  Then,  at  a  signal,  a  sheet  of  flame  burst 
fr&m  the  verdant  roadside,  and  exultant  shouts  from 
six  hundred  savage  throats  went  echoing  down  the 
narrow  gorge. 


42      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

It  was  a  complete  surprise  —  far  more  of  a  sur- 
prise than  that  experienced  by  poor  Braddock. 
But,  rallying  his  men,  many  of  whom  had  fallen 
dead  or  wounded  at  the  first  volley,  Montgomery 
fought  bravely  for  a  full  hour.  The  Indians,  no  less 
brave,  and  having  the  advantage  of  knowing  every 
inch  of  the  ground,  were  not  to  be  shaken  off,  but 
hung  like  leeches  to  the  flanks  of  the  stricken  column, 
which  at  last  was  forced  to  retreat  back  to  Fort 
Prince  George,  dogged  every  step  of  the  way  by  the 
triumphant  and  vindictive  Indians. 

Nothing  but  the  poor  marksmanship  of  the  Cher- 
okees,  and  the  courageous  rear-guard  defence  of 
Waddell's  borderers,  averted  a  disaster  comparable 
with  that  sustained  by  Braddock.  As  it  was,  Mont- 
gomery lost  twenty  men  killed  and  seventy-six  badly 
wounded;  and,  abandoning  all  thought  of  further 
chastising  the  savages,  marched  his  regulars  from 
Fort  Prince  George  to  Charleston,  whence  he  pres- 
ently embarked  with  them  for  New  York.  Once 
more  the  frontier  of  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas  lay 
at  the  mercy  of  the  copper-colored  foe. 

But  instead  of  following  up  this  advantage,  and 
immediately  plundering  and  ravaging  as  before, 
the  Cherokees  first  of  all  turned  their  attention  to 
the  conquest  of  Fort  Loudon,  which  stood  a  solitary 
English  outpost  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Cherokee 
country  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the 


Dark  Days  on  the  Border  43 

nearest  white  settlement.  For  some  weeks  the  gar- 
rison, which  numbered  in  all  two  hundred  regular 
soldiers,  made  a  determined  resistance;  but  the 
surrender  of  the  fort  was  ultimately  forced  by  the 
failure  of  the  food  supply.  It  was  stipulated  that 
the  soldiers  should  be  allowed  to  march  out  under 
arms,  and  proceed  unmolested  to  Fort  Prince  George 
or  to  the  Virginia  settlements,  whichever  they  pre- 
ferred. Nevertheless,  when  only  fifteen  miles  from 
Fort  Loudon,  they  were  attacked  by  the  Cherokees, 
and  either  killed  or  taken  prisoner.  Accounts  diflPer 
as  to  the  loss  of  life,  the  estimates  ranging  from  thirty 
to  two  hundred  slain. 

Whatever  the  exact  figure,  this  most  treacherous 
massacre  proved  the  undoing  of  the  Cherokees, 
for  it  aroused  the  colonial  authorities  to  the  necessity 
of  taking  drastic  measures  to  stem  the  Indian  tide 
that  now  threatened  to  engulf  every  outlying  settle- 
ment. A  joint  invasion  of  the  Cherokee  country 
was  decided  on  by  the  governors  of  Virginia,  North 
CaroHna,  and  South  CaroHna,  and  by  June  of  1761 
two  armies  were  on  the  march.  One,  consisting 
chiefly  of  Scotch  regulars  and  South  Carolina  militia, 
and  commanded  by  a  Highlander,  Colonel  James 
Grant,  advanced  against  the  towns  on  the  Little 
Tennessee  by  way  of  Fort  Prince  George.  The 
other  approached  the  same  destination  from  the 
north,   and  was   composed  of  Virginia   and  North 


44      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Carolina  backwoodsmen  under  Colonels  Byrd  and 
Waddell.  In  this  second  army  Boone  again  found  a 
place,  serving  once  more  under  the  valiant  Waddell. 
But  he  was  destined  on  this  occasion  to  witness  little 
or  no  fighting,  for  Grant  anticipated  Byrd  and  Wad- 
dell in  meeting  the  Cherokees,  whom  he  fought  on 
the  very  battle-ground  where  Montgomery  had  been 
so  disastrously  repulsed  the  previous  year. 

EstabHshing  themselves  on  a  hill,  the  Indians  for 
three  hours  successfully  resisted  every  attempt  at 
dislodgment,  and  at  the  same  time  numbers  of  them 
harassed  the  army  by  a  galling  fire  from  the  bushes 
and  rocks.  For  a  while  it  almost  seemed  as  though 
their  bravery  would  be  rewarded  with  another 
victory.  But  at  eleven  o'clock  —  the  engagement 
having  begun  at  eight  in  the  morning  of  June  1 1  — 
they  suddenly  gave  way,  and  a  running  battle  followed 
until  two  in  the  afternoon  with  little  damage  to  either 
side.  All  told,  indeed,  the  loss  to  the  whites  was 
only  between  fifty  and  sixty  men  killed  and  wounded, 
while  the  Indians  suflFered  little  more  severely.  Still 
the  battle  was  in  the  truest  sense  a  "decisive"  one. 

It  taught  the  Cherokees  that  their  only  safety  lay 
in  making  peace  as  quickly  as  possible.  Submitting 
to  Grant,  they  submitted  also  to  Byrd  and  Waddell, 
and  after  some  tedious  negotiations  a  treaty  of  am- 
ity was  signed  on  Nov.  19.  By  its  provisions  the 
Cherokees   were   to   remain   in    possession   of  their 


Dark  Days  on  the  Border  45 

ancestral  lands,  and  were  to  cease  from  troubling 
the  whites  for  all  time  to  come  —  or,  to  put  it  in  the 
poetic  phraseology  of  Indian  treaty  makers,  they 
were  to  *'  keep  the  chain  of  friendship  bright  so  long  as 
rivers  flow,  grasses  grow,  and  sun  and  moon  endure/' 

It  was  a  noteworthy  treaty,  ending  a  noteworthy 
war.  Hewatt  and  Ramsay  and  other  early  his- 
torians have  described  this  struggle  between  the 
Cherokee  and  the  CaroHnian  as  one  among  "the 
last  humbling  strokes  given  to  the  expiring  power 
of  France  in  North  America."  It  was  that,  and  it 
was  more,  since  it  had  an  important  bearing  on  the 
opening  up  of  the  unoccupied  country  west  of  the 
mountains.  As  has  been  stated.  Fort  Loudon  was 
situated  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  in  advance  of 
the  nearest  white  settlement.  Between  it  and  the 
Carohna  borders  lay  a  difficult  but  fertile  expanse  of 
mountain  and  valley  practically  unexplored  prior 
to  the  Cherokee  War.  The  successive  campaigns 
of  Montgomery,  Grant,  Byrd,  and  Waddell  revealed 
this  territory  in  all  its  richness,  proved  that  it  was 
not  so  inaccessible  as  had  generally  been  supposed, 
and  aroused  in  many  frontiersmen  the  desire  to  make 
their  homes  in  a  region  where  nature's  gifts  were  so 
bountiful. 

Consequently,  after  the  signing  of  the  Cherokee 
Treaty,  and  the  more  far-reaching  Treaty  of  1763, 
by  which  France  formally  relinquished  her  American 


46      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

claims,  there  was  great  activity  along  the  southwest 
frontier.  Settlements  became  more  numerous  in 
the  Valley  of  Virginia  and  the  Piedmont  section  of 
the  Carolinas,  there  was  a  constant  edging  westward 
by  the  more  daring  pioneers,  and  hunting  parties 
for  the  first  time  penetrated  the  mountain  fastnesses 
in  which  the  buffalo  and  bear  and  deer  had  taken 
refuge  from  the  oncoming  wave  of  civilization. 

In  this  mid-mountain  hunting  no  one  was  so  con- 
spicuous as  Daniel  Boone.  The  Cherokee  cam- 
paigning had  reawakened  all  his  latent  passion 
for  adventure,  and  although  he  brought  his  family 
back  to  the  Yadkin  as  soon  as  peace  had  been  made 
sure,  he  found  it  impossible  to  resume  the  humdrum 
Hfe  of  the  stay-at-home  farmer.  More  than  ever  he 
reHed  on  the  products  of  the  chase  to  supply  him  with 
a  livelihood,  and  since  game  had  become  scarce  in 
the  Yadkin  Valley,  he  of  necessity,  as  well  as  choice, 
embarked  on  long  and  perilous  hunting-trips.  As 
early  as  1760  he  was  threading  his  way  through  the 
Watauga  wilds,  where  the  first  settlement  in  Tennes- 
see was  afterwards  estabHshed.^  In  1761,  at  the 
head  of  a  hunting-party  which  crossed  the  Alleghanies 
that  year,  "came   Daniel  Boone  from  the  Yadkin, 

*  Until  a  few  years  ago  there  stood  on  the  bank  of  Boone's  Creek, 
a  tributary  of  the  Watauga  River,  a  beach  tree  bearing  on  its  time- 
incrusted  bark  a  hunting-knife  inscription  which  testified  that 
"D.  Boon  cilled  a  bar  on  this  tree  in  the  year  1760." 


Dark  Days  on  the  Border  47 

in  North  Carolina,  and  travelled  with  them  as  low 
as  the  place  where  Abingdon  now  stands,  and  there 
left  them." 

Three  years  later  he  was  once  more  in  the  Ten- 
nessee country.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  he  is 
reported  to  have  cried,  while  gazing  from  a  Cumber- 
land Mountain  peak  at  a  herd  of  buffalo  grazing  below : 
*'I  am  richer  than  the  man  mentioned  in  scripture, 
who  owned  the  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills  —  I  own  the 
wild  beasts  of  more  than  a  thousand  valleys  !  '* 

In  the  following  year  —  1765  —  he  actually  carried 
his  explorations  as  far  south  as  Florida,  and  almost 
made  up  his  mind  to  settle  at  Pensacola.  Had  he 
done  so,  the  chances  are  that  nothing  more  would 
have  been  heard  of  him.  Assuredly,  he  would  never 
have  won  fame  as  the  great  pilot  of  the  early  West. 
But,  dissuaded  by  his  wife,  he  abandoned  this  plan, 
and  once  more  gave  himself  whole-heartedly  to  the 
pursuit  of  the  big  game  of  the  mountain  ranges. 

Sometimes  he  took  with  him  his  oldest  son,  James, 
then  a  boy  of  eight.  More  frequently  he  journeyed 
in  absolute  solitude,  pressing  restlessly  forward  on 
the  trail  of  the  retreating  beasts  of  prey.  Always, 
he  noted,  this  led  him  towards  the  west;  and  ere- 
long there  recurred  to  his  mind  the  glowing  tales 
he  had  heard  from  the  trader  Finley  in  the  sad  days 
of  Braddock's  campaign.  It  must  be  to  Kentucky, 
the  hunter's  paradise,  that  the  wild  animals  were 


48      Daniel   Boone   and  the  Wilderness  Road 

fleeing.  He  had  vowed  to  visit  Kentucky.  Now, 
if  ever,  while  the  Indians  were  at  peace  with  the 
whites,  was  the  time  to  fulfil  that  vow. 

But,  as  he  soon  discovered,  it  was  no  easy  matter 
to  reach  Kentucky.  In  the  autumn  of  1767  he  made 
his  first  start,  accompanied  by  a  friend  named  Hill 
and,  it  is  thought,  by  his  brother,  Squire  Boone, 
named  after  their  brave  old  father  who  had  died  two 
years  before.  The  route  followed  was  from  the 
Yadkin  to  the  valleys  of  the  Holston  and  Clinch, 
and  thence  to  the  head  waters  of  the  West  Fork  of 
the  Big  Sandy.  Boone's  plan  was  to  strike  the  Ohio, 
and  follow  it  to  the  falls  of  which  Finley  had  told  him. 
But  they  had  only  touched  the  eastern  edge  of  Ken- 
tucky when  they  were  snow-bound  and  compelled 
to  go  into  camp  for  the  winter.  Attempting  to  renew 
their  journey  in  the  spring,  they  found  the  country 
so  impenetrable  that  they  soon  abandoned  all  idea 
of  entering  and  exploring  it  by  that  route,  and  made 
their  way  back  to  the  Yadkin,  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  the  winter's  hunting. 

Whether,  if  left  to  himself,  Boone  would  again 
have  endeavored  to  find  a  way  into  Kentucky,  there 
is  no  means  of  knowing.  But  just  at  this  juncture, 
and  guided,  it  would  seem,  by  the  finger  of  Fate, 
there  unexpectedly  appeared  in  the  Yadkin  Valley 
the  one  man  best  calculated  to  hold  him  to  his  pur- 
pose —  the  trader,  John  Finley. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BOONe's    explorations    in    KENTUCKY 

WITH  the  advent  of  John  Finley  in  the  Yad- 
kin Valley  that  part  of  Boone's  career 
which  really  belongs  to  history  may  be 
said  to  have  begun.  He  was  then  in  his  thirty-fifth 
year,  and,  as  the  reader  will  have  perceived,  had  as 
yet  done  little  in  the  way  of  actual  achievement. 
Two  of  the  three  military  campaigns  in  which  he  had 
taken  part  had  been  miserable  failures,  and  for  the 
rest  his  life  had  been  spent  in  a  desultory  way,  differ- 
ing only  in  degree  from  that  of  hundreds  of  other 
young  borderers. 

Yet  his  roaming  and  hunting,  his  incessant  wan- 
dering, and  his  attentive  studying  of  the  ways  of 
nature  had  constituted  the  best  of  apprenticeships 
for  his  future  labors.  And  it  is  precisely  because  of 
this  that  such  emphasis  has  been  laid  in  the  preceding 
pages  on  the  events  of  what  may  fairly  be  called  his 
probationary  period. 

He  found  Finley  enthusiastic  as  ever  with  regard 
to  Kentucky,  and  entirely  willing  to  act  as  guide  to 
an  exploring  party.  It  was  then  too  late  in  the  year 
to  attempt  to  cross  the  mountains,  but  Boone  prom- 
ised himself  an  early  start  with  the  coming  of  spring, 
E  49 


50      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  at  once  began  to  seek  among  his  neighbors  for 
fellow-travellers.  In  this  he  had  the  efficient  co- 
operation of  Finley,  who  remained  on  the  Yadkin  all 
winter  as  Boone's  guest,  and  contrived  to  make  the 
long  winter  evenings  pass  most  pleasantly  with  stories 
of  his  own  adventures  in  the  forests  and  cane- 
brakes  of  Kentucky.  Added  to  the  effect  of  such 
tales,  from  the  standpoint  of  securing  volunteers  for 
the  enterprise,  was  the  fact  that  the  dwellers  along 
the  Yadkin,  in  common  with  many  of  their  fellow- 
settlers  throughout  the  Piedmont  region  of  North 
CaroHna,  were  growing  restless  and  discontented 
under  conditions  which  presently  led  to  an  outbreak 
of  civil  war. 

There  had  been  a  rapid  increase  in  population 
since  the  close  of  the  Cherokee  War,  and  with  the 
newcomers  had  appeared  not  merely  the  farmer  and 
hunter  and  trader  but  also  the  tax-collector.  Cor- 
rupt officials  and  cunning  lawyers  preyed  upon  the 
simple  frontiersm^en  until,  driven  to  desperation  by  a 
sense  of  wrongs  which  the  courts  seemed  unwiUing 
to  correct,  the  men  of  the  border  united  in  an  armed 
protest  known  in  history  as  the  War  of  the  Regula- 
tion. This  is  not  the  place  to  give  a  narrative  of  its 
tumultuous  events,^  but  it  is  important  to  recognize 

^  The  most  authoritative  and  scholarly  account  of  the  War  of 
the  Regulation  is  contained  in  Professor  John  S.  Bassett's  "The 
Regulators  of  North  Carolina,"  a  monograph  published  as  part  of 


Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky  51 

the  influence  it  exercised  on  the  opening  up  of  the 
West.  It  made  men  eager  to  hazard  the  perils  of 
the  remote  wilderness,  in  preference  to  remaining  in 
settled  communities  where  injustice  was  rampant. 
Especially  did  it  contribute  to  the  first  settlement  of 
Tennessee.  And,  although  its  crisis  had  not  been 
reached  at  the  time  of  Finley's  sojourn  with  Boone, 
the  situation  had  become  sufficiently  acute  to  account 
for  the  readiness  with  which  volunteers  stepped  for- 
ward in  response  to  Boone's  appeal. 

Among  those  oflFering  their  services  was  Boone's 
brother.  Squire.  It  was  wisely  determined,  however, 
that  he  should  remain  at  home  to  harvest  his  own 
and  Daniel's  crops,  and  should  then  follow  them 
across  the  mountains  with  fresh  horses  and  an  ad- 
ditional supply  of  ammunition.  As  finally  selected 
the  exploring  party  included  Finley,  Boone,  a  brother- 
in-law  of  Boone's  named  John  Stuart,  and  three 
other  Yadkin  settlers,  Joseph  Holden,  James  Mooney, 
and  William  Cooley. 

All  six  were  resolute,  hardy  men,  expert  shots, 
and  equal  to  every  emergency.  With  the  exception 
of  Finley,  it  is  believed  that  they  were  all  men  of 
family,  but  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  their  wives 
raised  any  objection  to  their  departure  on  a  journey 

the  annual  report  of  the  American  Historical  Society  for  1894. 
Professor  Bassett  gives  references  to  the  earlier,  and  mostly  par- 
tisan, literature  on  the  subject. 


52      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

which,  under  the  most  favorable  conditions,  was 
certain  to  prove  more  or  less  perilous.  They  were 
true  border  women,  at  a  moment's  notice  capable  of 
"playing  the  man  for  their  people."  They  relied 
impHcitly  on  their  husbands'  good  judgment,  and  were 
ever  ready  to  adopt  any  course  of  action  that  promised 
to  mitigate  the  hardships  of  frontier  existence. 

On  the  1st  of  May,  1769  —  a  truly  memorable 
May  Day  in  the  annals  of  American  exploration  — 
the  start  was  made  from  the  Yadkin.^  Each  man 
was  mounted  on  a  good  horse,  and  led  a  second  horse 
equipped  with  that  useful  if  rude  contrivance,  the 
pack-saddle.  Each  was  well  armed,  and  dressed 
in  the  regulation  garb  of  the  frontiersman  —  deer- 

^  It  should  be  clearly  understood  that  Boone  was  by  no  means 
the  first  white  man  to  enter  Kentucky.  As  has  been  said,  Finley 
had  visited  it  in  1752,  and  possibly  again  in  1767.  And  it  was 
visited  by  white  men  long  before  Finley's  day.  There  is  even 
reason  to  believe  that  it  was  entered  and  partially  explored  as  early 
as  1671  by  a  company  of  Virginians  under  Captain  Thomas  Batts. 
La  Salle  was  another  seventeenth-century  visitor  to  Kentucky.  A 
French  expedition  is  reported  to  have  been  at  Big  Bone  Lick  in 
1735,  and  seven  years  afterwards  two  Virginians,  John  Howard 
and  Peter  Sailing,  likewise  anticipated  Boone,  as  did  Dr.  Thomas 
Walker  in  1748.  It  was  Boone's  distinction,  however,  to  obtain  a 
more  thorough  knowledge  of  the  country  than  did  any  of  his  pred- 
ecessors, and  to  be  the  first  man  to  turn  that  knowledge  to  prac- 
tical account.  If  not  the  first  in  point  of  time,  he  was  the  first 
explorer  of  Kentucky  in  the  true  meaning  of  the  term. 


Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky  53 

skin  shirt  and  trousers,  light  cap  and  moccasins, 
and  belt  bristling  with  tomahawk,  hunting-knife, 
powder-horn,  and  bullet-pouch.  Picturesque,  indeed, 
they  must  have  looked,  as  they  turned  in  their 
saddles,  to  wave  a  farewell,  and  then  disappeared, 
one  after  another,  at  a  bend  in  the  road. 

Overhead,  the  sun  beamed  down  upon  them  with 
the  genial  warmth  of  spring;  beneath,  babbling 
merrily  away  in  a  blossom-hidden  gorge,  a  moun- 
tain brook  cheerily  wished  them  good  luck;  while 
all  about  them  a  companionable  whispering  came 
from  the  forest  trees,  fresh  and  lusty  in  their  new 
garbs  of  green.  As  the  travellers  may  well  have  told 
one  another,  it  was  a  glorious  morning  for  the  com- 
mencement of  a  glorious  enterprise. 

But  much  of  gloom  and  rigor  lay  before  them. 
Not  many  miles,  and  they  were  compelled  to  turn 
from  the  beaten  road  and  follow  winding,  scarcely 
discernible  Indian  paths  along  the  ridges  and  through 
the  valleys  of  the  North  Carolina  mountains.  And 
soon  history  itself  loses  sight  of  them.  Boone,  in  the 
curious  "autobiography"  which  the  first  Kentucky 
historian,  John  Filson,*  wrote  for  him,  simply  says 

*  An  interesting  character  in  the  annals  of  Kentucky  and  Ohio. 
He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  Cincinnati,  to  which  he  gave  the 
curious  name  of  Losantiville.  In  1788,  while  on  a  surveying  ex- 
pedition, he  was  killed  by  Indians.  His  name  is  perpetuated  in  the 
celebrated  "Filson  Club,"  the  Kentucky  organization  devoted  to 


54      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

that  "after  a  long  and  fatiguing  journey  through  a 
mountainous  wilderness,  in  a  westward  direction," 
they  found  themselves  on  the  Red  River  in  Kentucky. 
From  other  sources  it  is  gathered  that  their  route  lay 
across  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Stone  and  Iron  moun- 
tains, and  through  the  valleys  of  the  Holston  and  the 
Clinch  into  Powell's  Valley,  where  they  discovered 
Finley's  promised  trail  through  Cumberland  Gap, 
and,  following  it,  came  at  last  into  Kentucky. 

Once  there,  they  quickly  realized  that  it  was  all 
that  Finley  had  painted  it.  "We  found  everywhere," 
Boone  told  Filson,  "abundance  of  wild  beasts  of  all 
sorts.  The  buffalo  were  more  frequent  than  I  have 
seen  cattle  in  the  settlements,  browsing  on  the  leaves 
of  the  cane,  or  cropping  the  herbage  on  these  exten- 
sive plains,  fearless,  because  ignorant  of  the  violence 
of  man.  Sometimes  we  saw  hundreds  in  a  drove,  and 
the  numbers  about  the  salt  springs  were  amazing." 
And,  according  to  Filson,  he  added  in  a  rhapsody 
of  enthusiasm:  — 

"One  day  I  undertook  a  tour  through  the  country, 
and  the  diversity  and  beauties  of  nature  I  met  with 
.  .  .  expelled  every  gloomy  and  vexatious  thought. 
Just  at  the  close  of  day  the  gentle  gales  retired,  and 
left  the  place  to  the  disposal  of  a  profound  calm. 
Not  a  breeze  shook  the  most  tremulous  leaf.     I  had 

research  in  the  early  history  of  that  State,  and  to  whose  pubHca- 
tions  all  students  of  American  history  are  greatly  indebted. 


Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky  55 

gained  the  summit  of  a  commanding  ridge,  and, 
looking  round  with  astonishing  dehght,  beheld  the 
ample  plains,  the  beauteous  tracts  below.  On  the 
other  hand  I  surveyed  the  famous  river  Ohio,  that 
rolled  in  silent  dignity,  marking  the  western  boun- 
dary of  Kentucky  with  inconceivable  grandeur.  At 
a  vast  distance  I  beheld  the  mountains  lift  their 
venerable  brows,  and  penetrate  the  clouds." 

These,  it  is  as  well  to  point  out,  are  Boone's  words 
only  as  they  have  come  down  to  us  in  the  peculiar 
phraseology  of  Filson.  But  they  depict  accurately 
enough  the  profound  impression  made  on  the  simple 
frontiersman  and  his  companions  by  the  magnificent 
scenery  of  Kentucky  and  the  numerous  evidences  of 
its  great  natural  wealth.  Journeying  leisurely  along 
the  so-called  "Warriors'  Path,"  —  a  rough  highway 
opened  up  by  Indian  war-parties  in  their  movements 
back  and  forth  between  the  Ohio  country  and  the 
villages  of  the  South,  —  the  explorers  before  the  end 
of  June  estabHshed  a  permanent  camp  on  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  Kentucky  River  in  what  is  now  Estill 
County.  Then,  being  practical  men,  and  having  a 
keen  desire  to  profit  as  much  as  possible  from  their 
daring  venture,  they  at  once  started  hunting. 

Swiftly  the  days  passed,  and  with  each  succeeding 
day  their  store  of  furs  grew  larger,  so  abundant  and 
unw^ary  was  the  game.  The  hunter's  paradise  of 
their  dreams  had,  in  truth,  become  a  reality.     But 


56      Daniel   Boone  and   the  Wilderness  Road 

they  were  fated  to  learn  that,  as  Finley  had  warned 
Boone  when  he  first  told  him  about  Kentucky,  it 
was  not  altogether  without  its  evils.  Indian  "signs" 
began  to  multiply,  and  more  than  mere  "signs." 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  adventurers  to  hunt 
singly  or  in  couples,  and  as  a  general  thing  Boone  and 
his  brother-in-law,  Stuart,  paired  together.  One 
day  they  left  camp  as  usual,  intending  to  explore  the 
country  along  the  banks  of  the  Kentucky.  All  went 
well  until  just  before  sunset  when,  as  they  were  about 
to  ascend  a  small  hill,  they  found  themselves  sur- 
rounded by  a  band  of  Shawnees,  who  evidently  had 
been  watchins;  them  for  some  time  from  the  shelter  of 
a  thick  cane-brake.  They  were  given  no  chance  to 
defend  themselves,  but  were  seized,  hurled  to  the 
ground,  and  pinioned  securely. 

Among  the  Shawnees  was  one  who  could  speak  a 
little  English,  and  by  him  the  captives  were  presently 
informed  that  they  m.ust  guide  the  Indians  to  their 
camp.  In  the  hope,  perhaps,  that  their  comrades 
would  effect  a  rescue  they  complied,  but  such  was 
the  cunning  of  the  Shawnees  that  Finley  and  the  rest 
were  taken  prisoners  as  Boone  and  Stuart  had  been, 
without  striking  a  blow.  Unable  to  resist,  but  pro- 
testing vigorously,  they  watched  the  Indians  plunder 
the  camp  of  everything  it  held  —  furs,  provisions, 
horses,  traps,  rifles,  and  ammunition.  They  were 
told  that  they  were  trespassing  on  land  which  be- 


Boone's   Explorations  in  Kentucky  57 

longed  exclusively  to  the  red  men,  and  which  the 
latter  were  determined  to  keep  forever  as  their  own ; 
and  they  were  warned  that  did  they  venture  to  set 
foot  in  it  again,  their  lives  would  pay  the  penalty. 
After  which,  to  their  infinite  relief,  they  were  released, 
given  just  enough  food  to  carry  them  back  to  the 
settlements,  and  ordered  to  leave  Kentucky  at  once. 

It  was  Finley's  advice  that  they  should  take  the 
hint,  and  make  the  best  of  their  way  over  the  moun- 
tains; and  in  this  Cooley  and  Mooney  and  Holden 
concurred.  But  Boone  and  Stuart,  infuriated  at 
the  idea  of  returning  poorer  than  they  had  left  home, 
bluntly  refused  to  flee.  They  intended,  they  said, 
to  make  an  effort  to  recover  their  property;  and, 
after  a  cautious  pursuit,  they  actually  succeeded  in 
entering  the  Shawnee  camp  and  making  away  with 
four  horses.  Two  days  later,  the  Shawnees  having 
given  chase  as  soon  as  they  missed  the  horses,  Boone 
and  his  brother-in-law  were  captives  once  more. 

There  was  no  talk  now  of  releasing  them.  On  the 
contrary  they  were  given  to  understand  that  they 
would  be  taken  to  the  Shawnee  villages  on  the  Scioto 
River,  in  the  Ohio  country,  and  there  punished  as 
their  temerity  and  ingratitude  deserved.  But  for 
the  time  being  they  were  not  treated  unkindly,  and 
Boone's  active  mind  was  soon  revolving  projects  for 
escape.  In  his  boyhood,  as  will  be  remembered,  he 
had  made  a  careful  study  of  Indian  characteristics, 


58      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  his  experiences  in  the  Tennessee  mountains, 
during  and  after  the  Cherokee  War,  had  rounded  out 
his  knowledge  so  completely  that  there  were  few  so 
well  equipped  as  he  to  outwit  the  wiliest  of  sav- 
ages. Bidding  Stuart  keep  up  his  courage  and  do 
nothing  to  irritate  the  Shawnees,  Boone  strove 
earnestly  to  win  their  confidence.  Soon,  so  artfully 
did  he  work  upon  them,  their  watchfulness  relaxed, 
and  the  prisoners  were  granted  an  unusual  degree  of 
Hberty. 

Thus  seven  days  passed.  On  the  night  of  the 
seventh  day,  having  decided  that  the  attempt  at 
escape  must  be  made  before  crossing  the  Ohio,  Boone 
waited  until  he  was  sure  that  every  Indian  in  camp 
had  fallen  asleep.  Then,  creeping  along  the  ground 
so  cautiously  that  not  a  twig  snapped  beneath  him, 
he  gently  aroused  Stuart,  who,  like  the  Shawnees, 
was  slumbering  soundly.  Together,  and  keeping 
well  out  of  the  glow  of  the  camp-fire,  the  two  plucky 
backwoodsmen  secured  rifles,  bullets,  and  powder, 
and,  their  moccasined  feet  making  never  a  sound, 
vanished  ghost-like  into  the  darkness  of  the  sur- 
rounding cane-brake. 

Meanwhile  Finley,  Cooley,  Mooney,  and  Holden 
were  homeward  bound,  convinced  that  Boone  and 
Stuart  had  perished  in  their  rash  attempt.  At  the 
same  time  Squire  Boone,  in  company  with  a  hunter 
named  Neely,  whom   he   had    accidentally  encoun- 


Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky  59 

tered  while  crossing  the  mountains,  was  hurrying 
westward  along  the  Warriors'  Path,  bringing  with 
him  horses  and  supplies,  as  had  been  agreed.  Not 
far  from  Cumberland  Gap  the  two  parties  met,  and 
Squire  learned  from  Finley  the  news  of  the  supposed 
death  of  Boone  and  Stuart.  It  was  decided  to  return 
East  without  delay,  and  East  all  six  would  un- 
doubtedly have  gone  but  for  the  sudden  and  wel- 
come arrival  of  the  two  fugitives,  who  staggered 
into  camp  one  day,  weary  and  famished  and  in 
tatters.^ 

Exhausted  though  he  was,  Boone's  spirit  remained 
unbroken.  The  glamour  of  the  wilderness  was  full 
upon  him,  and  moreover  he  had  no  desire  of  return- 
ing empty-handed  after  his  year  on  the  Kentucky. 
So  soon  as  he  learned  of  Squire  Boone's  presence 
with  the  new  equipment,  he  declared  his  intention  of 
hastening  back  to  lay  in  another  store  of  furs.  To 
this,  Squire,  scarcely  less  adventurous  than  Daniel 
himself,  gave  a  ready  assent;  and  Neely,  too,  ex- 
pressed his  cordial  approval,  as  did  Stuart.  But 
Finley  protested  that,  for  the  present,  he  had  had 

^  In  its  essentials  this  account  of  Boone's  first  captivity  follows 
the  version  given  by  Dr.  Thv^aites.  It  differs  in  important  re- 
spects from  that  of  earlier  writers,  but  Dr.  Thwaites  had  the  advan- 
tage of  being  able  to  utilize  the  invaluable  Draper  collection  of 
Boone  manuscripts,  preserved  in  the  library  of  the  Wisconsin  State 
Historical  Society,  and  for  that  reason  his  version  is  to  be  preferred. 


6o      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

enough  of  Kentucky  —  the  Indians  were  aroused 
and  angered,  and  might  at  any  time  fall  upon  them. 
This  was  the  view  of  the  others,  who  continued 
homeward  with  Finley,  while  the  Boones,  Stuart, 
and  Neely  were  soon  afterwards  building  a  new  camp 
not  far  from  the  scene  of  the  recent  adventure. 

It  would  have  been  well  for  one  of  them  had  he 
taken  Finley's  advice  and  abandoned  an  enterprise 
which  had  thus  far  proved  most  unprofitable.  As 
before,  Daniel  Boone  and  Stuart  hunted  together, 
frequently  separating  during  the  day  to  meet  at 
nightfall  at  some  appointed  rendezvous.  One  even- 
ing, shortly  after  their  return  to  the  Kentucky,  Stuart 
failed  to  appear,  and  he  was  still  missing  at  sunrise. 
Boone,  greatly  alarmed,  began  a  search  for  him,  and 
before  night  came  upon  the  embers  of  a  fire  not  more 
than  a  day  old. 

But  he  could  find  no  other  trace  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  and  Neely  and  Squire  Boone  were  equally  un- 
successful when  they  joined  in  the  hunt.  Reluc- 
tantly it  was  concluded  that  Stuart  had  either  been 
killed  by  Indians,  or  had  accidentally  shot  himself. 
He  was  too  good  a  backwoodsman,  as  they  were  well 
aware,  to  lose  his  way.  Five  years  afterwards,  but 
not  until  then,  the  mystery  of  his  disappearance  was 
partially  cleared  when  Boone,  while  on  a  hunting- 
trip  in  the  same  vicinity,  discovered  in  a  hollow  syca- 
more tree  a  few  human  bones  and  a  powder-horn 


Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky  6i 

marked  with  Stuart's  name.  But  he  did  not  require 
this  long-hidden  evidence  to  convince  him  that  Stuart 
had  indeed  perished  —  the  first,  as  Roosevelt  has 
put  it  in  his  "The  Winning  of  the  West/'  of  the 
thousands  of  human  beings  with  whose  life-blood 
Kentucky  was  bought. 

Soon  afterwards  Neely  started  home,  satisfied 
with  his  share  of  the  winter's  hunting.  This  left 
the  two  Boones  alone  in  the  wilderness.  Only  a 
little  later,  and  but  one  Boone  remained  in  it  —  the 
indomitable  Daniel.  Their  ammunition  had  become 
almost  exhausted,  and  they  had  decided  that  Squire 
should  go  home  with  the  horses,  dispose  of  the  furs 
they  had  already  collected,  and  return  with  the 
means  for  further  hunting.  On  the  first  of  May, 
a  year  to  a  day  since  the  departure  from  the  Yadkin, 
Squire  silently  wrung  his  brother's  hand,  swung  him- 
self into  the  saddle,  and  set  off  down  the  lonesome 
Warriors'  Path. 

It  has  been  charged  that  Daniel  Boone,  in  thus 
electing  to  hold  himself  remote  from  kith  and  kin, 
and  lead  a  solitary  existence  among  the  Kentucky 
cane-brakes,  displayed  a  singular  lack  of  human 
sympathy,  and  still  more  a  callous  disregard  for  the 
feehngs  of  his  wife  and  children.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  though  not  an  emotional  man  he  was  devotedly 
attached  to  his  family,  and  it  was  out  of  regard  to 
their  interests,  as  well  as  in  accord  with  his  character- 


62      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

istic  fondness  for  the  untrammelled  life  of  the  forest, 
that  he  permitted  his  brother  to  travel  alone  to  the 
Yadkin. 

Both  the  Boones  had  been  obliged  to  go  into  debt  to 
equip  themselves  for  the  expedition;  and  the  furs 
which  Squire  took  with  him  would  only  in  part  dis- 
charge their  indebtedness.  By  remaining  in  Ken- 
tucky Daniel  would  save  time  and  money  in  many 
ways.  He  could  not,  to  be  sure,  do  much  hunting, 
for  he  would  have  to  be  careful  of  his  ammunition 
until  Squire  returned;  but  he  could  keep  things  ship- 
shape at  the  camp,  repair  rifles,  mend  traps,  and 
otherwise  occupy  himself  to  good  purpose. 

Most  important  of  all,  he  would  have  leisure  to 
make  extensive  explorations  during  the  best  season 
for  studying  the  topography  and  resources  of  Ken- 
tucky. If  he  had  not  done  so  before,  Boone  had  by 
this  time  definitely  determined  to  remove  his  family 
from  North  CaroHna  to  this  glorious  land  of  enchant- 
ment, where,  as  he  phrased  it,  "a  man  might  have 
elbow-room  and  breathing-space."  It  did  not  need 
a  prophet  to  predict  that  before  many  years  Ken- 
tucky, although  as  yet  quite  unoccupied,  would  be- 
come a  seat  of  white  settlement.  As  early  as  1754,  or 
the  year  of  Washington's  capitulation  to  the  French, 
pioneer  famihes  had  ventured  across  the  Alleghanies 
and  established  homes  on  a  river  in  northwestern 
Virginia.     In    the    Southwest    the    limits    of   white 


Boone's  Explorations  in  Kentucky  63 

habitation  had  been  extended  to  Powell's  Valley,  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains.  The 
conquest  of  the  French,  the  growth  of  population, 
and  the  introduction,  more  especially  in  the  Carolinas, 
of  laws  which,  if  not  intrinsically  unjust,  were  ren- 
dered so  by  the  manner  of  their  enforcement,  had  all 
combined  to  stimulate  the  trend  westward.  Boone 
had  no  desire  to  be  a  laggard  in  the  rear  of  this  move- 
ment. He  preferred  to  be  among  its  leaders.  And 
accordingly,  soon  after  his  brother  had  left  him,  he 
gave  himself  seriously  to  the  task  of  selecting  a  future 
home. 

At  first,  as  he  afterwards  admitted,  he  felt  unut- 
terably lonely  —  a  circumstance  which  is  itself  strong 
evidence  to  the  falsity  of  the  charge  that  he  was  lack- 
ing in  natural  affection.  "  I  confess,"  he  told  Filson, 
*'I  never  before  was  under  greater  necessity  of  ex- 
ercising philosophy  and  fortitude.  A  few  days  I 
passed  uncomfortably.  The  idea  of  a  beloved  wife 
and  family,  and  their  anxiety  upon  the  account  of 
my  absence  and  exposed  situation,  made  sensible 
impressions  on  my  heart.  A  thousand  dreadful 
apprehensions  presented  themselves  to  my  view, 
and  had  undoubtedly  disposed  me  to  melancholy, 
if  further  indulged."  But  his  strong  will  and  the 
genial  influence  of  the  beautiful  Kentucky  May- 
time  overcame  all  feelings  of  depression.  Every 
day  presented  some  new  attraction  to  him.     Whether 


64      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

walking  through  the  luxuriant  wilds  that  have  since 
been  transformed  into  the  famous  Blue  Grass  region, 
tracing  the  course  of  some  broad-flowing  stream,  or 
traversing  the  twilight  depths  of  a  primeval  forest  so 
thickly  leaved  that  scarce  a  ray  of  sunlight  filtered 
through,  he  found  much  to  occupy  his  thoughts. 

Adventures  he  had  in  plenty  and  of  a  kind  to  in- 
crease his  knowledge  of  woodcraft  and  of  the  Ind- 
ians with  whom  he  was  later  to  come  so  often  into 
conflict.  Shawnees,.  Cherokees,  Chickasaws,  and 
other  tribesmen  wandered  near  his  path.  Some- 
times he  found  indications  that  his  camp  had  been 
visited  during  his  absence,  and  on  such  occasions  he 
slept  for  many  nights  afterwards  in  thicket  or  cane- 
brake,  fearing  lest  an  attempt  might  be  made  to  sur- 
prise him.  Once  he  encountered  a  band  of  savages 
and  escaped  from  them  only  by  leaping  down  a  preci- 
pice into  a  river  and  swimming  to  the  opposite  bank. 
Frequently  he  sighted  other  bands,  but  always  man- 
aged to  elude  them.  At  least  one  Indian  fell  a  victim 
to  his  skill  with  the  rifle,  being  shot  down  while  fish- 
ing in  the  Kentucky. 

In  his  wanderings  he  travelled  as  far  as  the  Falls 
of  the  Ohio,  where  he  discovered,  at  the  site  of  the 
future  Louisville,  a  fur-trade  stockade  of  which 
Finley  had  told  him.  And,  no  doubt,  as  he  stood 
there,  he  thought  of  his  old  friend,  hopefully  antici- 
pating the  day  when  they  should  again  be  hunting 


Boone's   Explorations   in  Kentucky  65 

together  in  marvellous  Kentucky.  Perhaps  he 
fancied  that  Finley  might  return  with  Squire,  but 
when  Squire  did  return,  towards  the  end  of  July,  he 
came  alone. ^  He  had  had  an  uneventful  but  most 
successful  journey,  had  sold  the  furs  at  a  substantial 
profit,  and  brought  the  good  news  that  Daniel's  wife 
and  children  were  well.     The  rest  of  the  summer 


^  So  far  as  is  known  Boone  and  Finley  never  met  after  the  latter's 
departure  from  Kentucky,  as  recorded  above.  In  fact,  with  that 
departure  Finley  steps  off  the  stage  of  authentic  history.  Dr. 
Thwaites  says  that  after  leaving  Boone,  he  went  to  visit  relatives 
in  Pennsylvania,  but  what  became  of  him  afterwards  is  unknown. 
I  believe,  however,  that  I  have  possibly  succeeded  in  tracing  his 
subsequent  movements  to  some  extent.  The  records  of  Lord 
Dunmore's  War  in  1774  show  that  there  was  a  John  Finley  who 
volunteered  under  Captain  Evan  Shelby  from  Watauga.  This 
same  John  Finley  took  part  in  the  Cherokee  wars  of  1776-80. 
And  in  1808,  when  the  town  of  Huntsburg,  Ohio,  was  founded,  the 
first  settler,  Stephen  Pomeroy,  found  a  trader  and  trapper  named 
John  Finley  living  in  a  hut  on  the  bank  of  a  creek  now  known  as 
Finley  Creek.  This  Finley  told  Pomeroy  that  he  had  been  with 
Boone  in  Kentucky  and  had  fought  under  Wayne.  He  enlisted  in 
the  War  of  1812,  returned  to  Huntsburg  after  the  war,  but  about 
1818  left  there,  removing,  it  is  thought,  to  Maryland.  He  was 
then  a  very  old  man.  For  this  information  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
W.  W.  King,  of  Huntsburg,  a  great-grandson  of  Stephen  Pomeroy. 
Of  course,  there  is  in  all  this  no  positive  identification,  but  it  seems 
at  least  possible  that  the  John  Finley  of  Watauga,  the  John  Finley 
of  Huntsburg,  and  the  John  Finley  of  Boone's  expedition  were  one 
and  the  same. 


66      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  the  early  fall  the  brothers  spent  in  hunting  and 
exploring,  this  time  moving  in  a  southwesterly  direc- 
tion into  the  country  between  the  Green  and  Cum- 
berland rivers.  Some  time  in  October,  Squire  again 
went  home,  carrying  with  him  many  deerskins;  but 
he  was  back  in  Kentucky  before  the  end  of  the  year, 
and  there  both  he  and  Daniel  remained  until  the 
following  March. 

Then,  having  previously  met  and  spent  some 
weeks  with  a  party  of  Virginia  hunters  who,  it  ap- 
peared, had  been  for  six  months  and  more  in  different 
parts  of  the  country  west  of  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains, the  Boones  finally  broke  camp  for  the  return 
to  the  Yadkin.  As  on  the  outward  journey,  their 
route  was  by  way  of  the  Warriors'  Path,  Cumberland 
Gap,  and  Powell's  Valley.  And  in  Powell's  Valley, 
to  their  surprise  and  bitter  disappointment,  they 
were  overtaken  by  the  danger  which  they  had  so 
warily  avoided  in  uncivilized  Kentucky. 

Riding  cheerily  along,  only  a  few  miles  from  the 
westernmost  settlements,  they  were  captured  by  a 
war-party  of  Northern  Indians  returning  from  a  raid 
against  Cherokee  and  Catawba  villages,  were  robbed 
of  their  hard-earned  pelts  and  everything  else  they 
possessed,  and  were  sent  on  their  homeward  way 
poorer  than  when  the  long  hunt  had  first  begun,  two 
years  before. 

The  Indians  could  not,  however,  rob  them  of  the 


Boone's   Explorations  in   Kentucky  6j 

knowledge  gained  concerning  the  fertile  lands  be- 
yond the  mountains.  Infuriated  but  not  disheart- 
ened, mingling  curses  against  all  red  men  with  fervid 
vows  to  return  to  Kentucky  and  make  good  their 
losses,  the  brothers  hastened  to  the  Yadkin,  where, 
as  may  be  imagined,  they  found  the  heartiest  of 
welcomes.  And  there,  for  the  moment,  let  us  leave 
them,  while  we  turn  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the 
people  who,  stirred  by  the  reports  which  they  and 
other  adventurers  brought  home,  were  soon  to  burst 
the  mountain  barrier  and  spread  themselves  through 
the  groves  and  glades  and  prairies  concealed  from 
view  by  its  craggy  heights. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    PEOPLE    WHO    FOLLOWED    BOONE 

THE  first  settlement  of  the  early  West  —  by 
which  is  meant  the  settlement  of  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee — was  essentially  the  work  of 
the  frontier  inhabitants  of  Virginia,  North  Carolina, 
and  South  Carolina.  It  differed  in  important  re- 
spects from  the  initial  colonization  of  the  country, 
and  most  of  all  in  being  carried  through  mainly  by 
native-born  Americans  in  whom  the  dominant  racial 
strain  was  not  English  or  Dutch  or  German,  or  any 
of  the  other  nationalities  which  contributed  so  largely 
to  the  settlement  of  the  seaboard  colonies.  It  was 
none  of  these  —  it  was  Scotch. 

Yet  here,  again,  a  distinction  has  to  be  made. 
For  the  men  who  were  to  the  fore  in  the  movement 
across  the  mountains,  and  in  the  teeth  of  hardship, 
privation,  and  suffering  won  a  foothold  for  civiliza- 
tion in  the  trans-Alleghany  wilderness,  were  in  most 
cases  not  of  direct  Scotch  extraction.  They  were 
the  descendants  of  Scottish  people  who,  many  years 
before,  had  moved  from  their  native  country  to  Ire- 
land, settling  especially  in  North  Ireland.     Meeting 

68 


The  People  who  followed  Boone  69 

with  persecution,  they,  or  their  children  and  grand- 
children, had  in  time  migrated  from  Ireland  to  the 
New  World,  bringing  with  them  a  mixture  of  both 
Scotch  and  Irish  traits  —  for  which  reason,  to  dis- 
tinguish them  from  people  of  pure  Scotch  or  pure 
Irish  ancestry,  writers  have  called  them  Scotch- 
Irish.  It  is  an  awkward  term,  but  it  seems  impos- 
sible to  devise  a  better. 

They  had  representatives  In  America  within  a 
comparatively  short  time  after  the  colonization  of 
Virginia  and  Massachusetts,  but  it  was  not  until  the 
closing  years  of  the  seventeenth  century  and  the  open- 
ing of  the  eighteenth  that  Scotch-Irish  immigration 
began  in  earnest.  It  flowed  in,  generally  speaking, 
through  two  ports,  Philadelphia  and  Charleston, 
and  by  1730  had  reached  considerable  proportions. 
In  the  one  year  1729  nearly  six  thousand  Scotch- 
Irish  entered  the  port  of  Philadelphia,  and  every 
year  for  long  thereafter  saw  a  constant  increase  in 
their  numbers. 

By  choice  and  of  necessity,  for  the  lands  along  the 
coast  were  even  then  rather  thickly  settled,  these 
late-comers  moved  inland,  forming  large  if  widely 
scattered  communities  in  the  "back  counties"  of 
Pennsylvania  and  the  CaroHnas.  Being  a  restless, 
enterprising,  and  aggressive  folk,  those  who  located 
in  Pennsylvania  got  on  none  too  well  with  the  sedate 
Quakers  and  phlegmatic  Germans  who  formed  the 


70      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

bulk  of  the  population  in  that  colony,  and  in  conse- 
quence they  either  built  their  cabins  in  outlying  dis- 
tricts, or  moved  southward  along  the  open  table-land 
of  the  Valley  of  Virginia.  As  early  as  1736  there  were 
isolated  Scotch-Irish  famiHes  in  the  Valley,  and  as 
time  passed  a  strong  current  of  Scotch-Irish  immigra- 
tion set  in,  journeying  from  Pennsylvania  through 
the  Valley  of  Virginia,  and  thence  to  the  hills  and 
meadows  of  the  Piedmont  section  of  North  Carolina. 

Meanwhile,  the  Scotch-Irish  who  had  come  in  by 
way  of  Charleston  likewise  moved  inland,  passing 
southward  to  the  hill  country  of  Georgia,  or  north- 
ward into  the  Carolina  uplands.  In  this  way,  not- 
withstanding the  presence  of  English,  German, 
French  Huguenot,,  and  other  settlers,  the  Scotch- 
Irish  element  by  I750*was  sufficiently  numerous  to 
give  color  and  tone  to  the  entire  frontier  as  far  north 
as  Pennsylvania.  The  other  colonies,  too,  had 
quotas  of  Scotch-Irish,  as  evidenced  by  the  giving  of 
such  names  as  Londonderry,  DubKn,  and  Antrim  to 
New  Hampshire  towns;  and  Orange  and  Ulster  to 
New  York  counties.  But  nowhere  did  the  Scotch- 
Irish  make  their  presence  so  strongly  felt  as  on  the 
borders  of  the  CaroHnas  and  Virginia. 

There  they  were  indeed  the  chief  factor  in  develop- 
ing the  institutional  life  of  the  country.  Like  their 
ancestors,  the  ancient  Scotch  Covenanters,  who  had 
suffered  much  for  conscience'  sake,  they  were  a  pro- 


The  People  who  followed  Boone  71 

foundly  religious  people,  of  the  Presbyterian  faith. 
They  were  also  strong  believers  in  the  virtue  of  edu- 
cation, if  only  to  enable  their  children  to  read  the 
Bible  for  themselves.  The  schoolmaster  was  an 
early  adjunct  of  a  Scotch-Irish  settlement;  and  when, 
for  any  reason,  a  schoolmaster  was  not  to  be  had, 
the  children  were  taught  their  letters  at  their  mother's 
knee.  It  is  true  that  as  a  rule  their  schooling  was  of 
a  primitive  sort,  confined  to  the  rudiments  of  read- 
ing, writing,  and  arithmetic.  But  this  was  ample 
for  the  needs  of  the  simple  life  which  the  vast  ma- 
jority of  Scotch-Irish  settlers  led. 

Everything  about  them,  in  fact,  was  characterized 
by  a  rugged,  outright  simplicity.  In  an  old  and  now 
almost  forgotten  book  —  Joseph  Doddridge's  "Notes 
on  the  Settlement  and  Indian  Wars  of  the  Western 
Parts  of  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania''  —  there  is  a 
crude  but  graphic  picture  of  their  customs  and  man- 
ners, drawn  from  Hfe  by  one  of  themselves.  "Most 
of  the  articles  in  common  use,"  says  Doddridge, 
"were  of  domestic  manufacture.  There  might  have 
been  incidentally  a  few  things  brought  to  the  country 
for  sale  in  a  primitive  way,  but  there  was  no  store  for 
general  supply.  Utensils  of  metal,  except  offensive 
weapons,  were  extremely  rare  and  almost  entirely 
unknown.  The  table  furniture  usually  consisted  of 
wooden  vessels,  either  turned  or  coopered.  Iron 
forks,  tin  cups,  etc.,  were  articles  of  rare  and  deli- 


72      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

cate  luxury.  The  food  was  of  the  most  wholesome 
and  primitive  kind.  The  richest  meat,  the  finest 
butter,  and  best  meal  that  ever  delighted  man's  palate, 
were  here  eaten  with  a  relish  which  health  and  labor 
only  know.  The  hospitality  of  the  people  was  pro- 
fuse and  proverbial. 

*'The  dress  of  the  settlers  was  of  primitive  simpHc- 
ity.  The  hunting-shirt  was  worn  universally  .  .  .  and 
was  usually  made  of  linsey,  sometimes  of  coarse 
linen,  and  a  few  of  dressed  deerskin.  The  bosom 
of  this  dress  was  sewed  as  a  wallet,  to  hold  a  piece 
of  bread,  cakes,  jerk,  tow  for  wiping  the  barrel  of 
the  rifle,  and  any  other  necessary  for  the  hunter  or 
warrior.  The  belt,  which  was  always  tied  behind, 
answered  several  purposes  besides  that  of  holding 
the  dress  together.  In  cold  weather  the  mittens, 
and  sometimes  the  bullet-bag,  occupied  the  front 
part  of  it.  To  the  right  side  was  suspended  the 
tomahawk,  and  to  the  left  the  scalping-knife  in  its 
leathern  sheath. 

"A  pair  of  drawers,  or  breeches  and  leggins,  were 
the  dress  of  the  thighs  and  legs,  and  a  pair  of  moc- 
casins answered  for  the  feet  much  better  than  shoes. 
These  were  made  of  dressed  deerskin.  They  were 
generally  made  of  a  single  piece,  with  a  gathering 
seam  along  the  top  of  the  foot,  and  another  from  the 
bottom  of  the  heel,  without  gathers,  as  high  as  the 
ankle  joint.     Flaps  were  left  on  each  side  to  reach 


The  People  who  followed  Boone  73 

some  distance  up  the  leg.  Hats  were  made  of  the 
native  fur;  the  buflFalo  wool  was  frequently  em- 
ployed in  the  manufacture  of  cloth,  as  was  also  the 
bark  of  the  wild  nettle.'* 

Reading  this  description,  one  can  readily  appre- 
ciate the  stir  of  lively  curiosity  aroused  in  Philadelphia, 
Williamsburg,  and  Charleston  whenever  a  back- 
country  settler  "came  to  town"  from  his  home  among 
the  mountains.  The  women  dressed  as  simply  as 
the  men;  their  garb  a  linsey  gown,  which  they  spun 
and  dyed  and  fashioned  themselves.  For  head- 
gear they  wore  huge  sunbonnets,  and  on  their  feet 
moccasins  like  the  men,  or  else  went  barefoot,  as 
was  largely  their  custom  in  the  summer. 

In  a  word,  the  Scotch-Irish  settler  who  took 
possession  of  the  mountain  frontier,  and  thence 
moved  onward  to  the  conquest  of  the  early  West, 
was  conspicuously  devoid  of  everything  that  made  for 
ease  and  comfort.  Remote  from  the  older  and  more 
populous  communities  near  the  sea,  he  led  his  own 
life,  a  hard,  cheerless  existence  in  many  ways.  To 
begin  with,  enough  space  had  to  be  cleared  in  the 
untrodden  forest  for  the  building  of  the  cabin  home 
and  the  sowing  of  the  first  crop  of  corn.  Until 
this  was  done,  he  and  his  wife  and  little  ones  perforce 
lived  in  the  canvas-covered  wagon,  prototype  of  the 
prairie  schooner  of  later  times,  which  had  carried 
them  to  the  scene  of  their  chosen  habitation.     And 


74      Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

when  the  cabin  was  raised,  with  the  willing  help  of 
neighboring  pioneers,  the  struggle  for  a  livelihood 
had  only  commenced. 

Week  in  and  week  out,  for  years  together,  the 
backwoodsman  and  his  wife  —  no  less  brave  than 
he,  and  gladly  sharing  his  unending  labors  —  toiled 
to  extend  their  area  of  cultivation,  increase  their 
products,  and  win  a  few  scant  comforts  for  their 
later  years.  However  poor,  they  were  an  ambitious 
folk,  these  backwoods  people.  They  had  not  come 
into  the  wilderness  to  bury  themselves,  to  stagnate,  to 
take  life  shiftlessly.  And  thence  it  was  that  where 
all  had  once  been  savage  waste,  tenanted  only  by 
the  wild  beast  or  the  wandering  red  man,  there  soon 
or  late  arose  progressive  settlements,  each  with  its 
church  and  schoolhouse,  its  mill  and  forge. 

Cut  off  as  he  was  from  ready  intercourse  with  the 
markets  and  manufactures  of  the  tide-water  country, 
every  backwoodsman  necessarily  did  much  besides 
cultivate  his  farm.  We  have  seen  how  Squire  Boone 
and  his  son  Daniel  were  weavers  and  blacksmiths 
as  well  as  farmers.  Among  the  settlers  there  were 
also  carpenters,  coopers,  wheelwrights,  wagon- 
makers,  rope-makers,  wine-makers,  tailors,  traders, 
surveyors,  teachers.  Every  settler  was  of  course 
a  hunter,  at  all  events  in  the  days  of  the  first  con- 
quest of  the  wilds,  since  he  was  obliged  to  depend 
on    game    for    his    meat    supply.     This  taught  him 


The  People  who  followed   Boone  75 

to  be  expert  with  the  rifle,  and  was  excellent  train- 
ing for  the  grim  days  when  he  had  to  use  the  rifle 
to  withstand  the  Indian  raider.  It  taught  him,  too, 
as  every  requirement  of  his  laborious  existence  taught 
him,  to  be  self-reliant,  resourceful,  ready  to  take 
long  chances,  and  to  yield  to  no  obstacle  however 
difllicult  or  dangerous  it  seemed. 

Here  we  approach  one  of  the  most  important 
phases  of  the  influence  exercised  on  the  backwoods- 
man by  the  nature  of  his  environment.  Whether 
he  was  Scotch-Irish  or  English  or  German  or  French 
Huguenot,  there  was  bred  in  him  just  those  char- 
acteristics which  make  for  an  efficient  democracy. 
His  struggle  with,  and  conquest  of,  the  wilderness 
gave  him  a  pronounced  individualism;  and  at  the 
same  time  his  perpetual  sense  of  isolation,  and  of 
dangers  shared  in  common  by  his  fellow-pioneers, 
increased  his  human  sympathy,  and  invested  the 
backwoods  people  as  a  whole  with  a  keener  feeling  of 
solidarity  than  less  exposed  communities  could  boast. 

To  put  it  otherwise,  the  backwoodsman  was  the 
typical  "man  in  the  state  of  nature,"  depicted  by 
the  political  philosophers  of  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries;  and  he  vindicated  those 
theorists  who  maintained  that  "man  in  the  state  of 
nature"  would  voluntarily  and  eff"ectively  organize 
for  mutual  defence  and  for  the  preservation  of  his 
"natural  rights."     To  the  backwoodsman  all  men 


76      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

were  free  and  equal,  and  should  have  due  regard 
to  the  freedom  and  equality  of  their  fellows.  He 
further  believed  that  the  function  of  government 
was  to  insure  universal  freedom  and  equality,  and 
that  for  this  purpose  no  better  form  of  government 
could  be  devised  than  a  government  by  the  people 
themselves.  Hence  the  readiness  with  which,  to 
give  an  illustration,  the  Scotch-Irish  backwoods- 
men of  both  North  and  South  Carolina  formed 
"associations"  in  the  time  of  the  Regulation — just 
previous  to  the  outbreak  of  the  War  for  Independence 
—  to  correct  what  they  viewed  as  intolerable  inter- 
ference and  injustice  on  the  part  of  the  colonial 
authorities. 

More  impressive  still  is  the  example  of  the  back- 
woodsmen who  came  together  to  form  the  Watauga 
Association,  the  first  written  constitution  drawn  up 
and  adopted  by  any  community  west  of  the  AUe- 
ghanies.  The  Watauga  country  lay  in  the  eastern 
part  of  the  present  State  of  Tennessee,  and  com- 
prised the  forest-clad  valleys  of  the  Clinch,  the 
Holston,  the  Watauga,  the  Nolichucky,  and  those 
numerous  other  streams  which  eventually  unite  to 
form  the  Tennessee  River.  Until  1769  this  region 
was  without  a  single  white  inhabitant.  In  that  year 
at  least  one  borderer,  William  Bean,  from  Virginia, 
settled  with  his  family  on  Boone's  Creek,  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  Watauga;    and  it  is    believed    that    at 


The  People  who  followed  Boone  77 

about  the  same  time  several  other  families  came  in 
from  North  Carolina.  In  any  event,  a  steady,  if 
at  first  insignificant,  volume  of  immigration  began 
in  1770,  from  Virginia  and  North  and  South  CaroHna.* 
By  1772  several  little  settlements,  or  stations  as 
they  were  often  called,  had  been  established,  their 
population  including  not  a  few  who  afterwards  won 
lasting  fame  in  the  history  of  the  early  West.  Chief 
among  these  were  James  Robertson  and  John 
Sevier,  the  former  justly  celebrated  as  the  "Father 
of  Tennessee,'' the  latter  the  renowned  "NoHchucky 
Jack  of  the  Border,"  and  the  hero,  according  to  his 
biographer,  James  R.  Gilmore,  of  thirty-five  battles, 
every  one  of  which  was  a  victory.  Both  were  native- 
born  American  borderers,  Robertson  being  of  Scotch- 
Irish  lineage  and  Sevier  of  Huguenot  ancestry. 

The  great  majority  of  the  Watauga  settlers  were 
Scotch-Irish,  and  were  a  plain,  substantial,  right- 
minded  people.  But,  as  has  always  been  the  case 
in  border  communities,  there  were  some  evil-doers 
among  them  —  "refugees  from  justice,  absconding 
debtors,  and  horse-thieves."  Preying  both  on  their 
fellow-whites  and  on  the  Cherokee  Indians,  whose 
villages  stood  to  the  south  of  the  Watauga  country, 
these  scoundrels  soon  became  a  great  menace  to  the 

^  Mainly,  it  would  seem,  from  North  Carolina,  especially  after 
the  battle  of  Alamance,  when  Governor  Tryon  so  signally  defeated 
the  Regulators. 


jS      Daniel  Boone  and   the  Wilderness   Road 

peace  and  progress  of  the  settlements.  They  were 
literally  beyond  the  pale  of  the  law,  for  although 
Watauga  was  a  part  of  North  Carolina  the  juris- 
diction of  that  colony  had  not  been  extended  beyond 
the  mountains,  and  consequently  there  were  no  courts 
or  officers  of  justice  to  deal  with  those  deserving 
punishment. 

The  settlers  themselves,  however,  were  equal  to 
the  emergency,  and  this  without  resorting  to  "lynch 
law."  Robertson,  Sevier,  and  a  few  others  con- 
sulted together  and  decided  that,  pending  the  ex- 
tension of  colonial  authority,  they  would  form  a 
government  of  their  own.  A  call  was  issued  for 
a  general  convention,  and  early  in  the  spring  of  1772 
the  settlers  met  at  Robertson^s  house.  The  result 
of  their  deliberations  was  the  holding  of  an  election 
at  which  the  people  of  the  different  stations  chose 
an  assembly  of  thirteen  representatives.  The 
thirteen,  in  their  turn,  met  and  elected  five  of  their 
number  as  a  committee,  or  court,  clothed  with  full 
authority  to  administer  the  public  business  of  the 
community. 

They  were  empowered  —  by  "articles  of  associa- 
tion," the  text  of  which  has  unfortunately  been  lost  ^ 

^  Our  knowledge  of  the  Watauga  Association  is  based  chiefly  on 
a  petition  addressed  to  the  Provincial  Council  of  North  Carolina, 
by  John  Sevier,  in  the  name  of  the  inhabitants  of  Watauga.  It  is 
printed  in  J.  G.  M.  Ramsey's  "Annals  of  Tennessee." 


James  Robertson 

The  "  Father  of  Tennessee  ' 


The  People  who  followed  Boone  79 

—  to  settle  all  disputes,  enforce  law  and  order, 
appoint  minor  officers  of  justice,  and  also  appoint 
the  officers  of  the  local  militia  to  be  organized  in 
accordance  with  the  articles  of  association.  They 
were  to  meet  at  stated  intervals  as  a  regularly  con- 
stituted tribunal,  and  in  the  performance  of  their 
duties  were  to  follow  as  far  as  possible  the  laws  of 
Virginia.  This  last  provision  was  due  to  a  mistaken 
belief  of  the  Wataugans  that  their  territory  instead 
of  being  part  of  North  Carolina  was  within  the  limits 
of  Virginia. 

As  thus  constituted  the  government  of  Watauga 
would  seem,  on  a  surface  view,  to  have  been  oli- 
garchic rather  than  democratic,  government  by  a  few 
rather  than  government  by  the  people.  But  such 
was  not  actually  the  case,  since  the  committee  of 
five  retained  throughout  their  existence  as  an  ex- 
ecutive-judicial body  a  keen  appreciation  of  their 
status  as  representatives  of  the  popular  will.  In 
1776,  for  example,  we  find  Sevier  stating  in  the 
petition  addressed  by  him,  in  the  name  of  the  Wa- 
taugans, to  the  Provincial  Council  of  North  Caro- 
lina :  — 

"Finding  ourselves  on  the  frontiers,  and  being 
apprehensive  that,  for  the  want  of  a  proper  legis- 
lature, we  might  become  a  shelter  for  such  as  en- 
deavored to  defraud  their  creditors;  considering 
also  the  necessity  of  recording  deeds,  wills,  and  doing 


8o      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

other  public  business,  we,  by  consent  of  the  people, 
formed  a  court  for  the  purposes  above  mentioned, 
taking  (by  desire  of  our  constituents)  the  Virginia 
laws  for  our  guide,  so  near  as  the  situation  of  affairs 
would  admit.  This  was  intended  for  ourselves, 
and  was  done  by  the  consent  of  every  individual." 

The  government  thus  established  endured  for 
more  than  four  years,  or  until  North  Carolina,  in 
response  to  the  petition  just  quoted,  annexed  Wa- 
tauga under  the  name  of  the  District  of  Washington. 
It  was,  of  course,  a  makeshift  government,  but  it 
bore  striking  evidence  to  the  intrinsic  worth  and 
good  sense  of  its  framers.  And  they,  be  it  remem- 
bered, were  not  men  trained  for  the  exercise  of 
legislative,  executive,  and  judicial  functions.  They 
were  not  skilled  in  the  formulation  of  codes,  or  versed 
in  the  intricacies  of  legal  procedure.  They  were 
simply  backwoodsmen  —  wielders  of  the  axe  and 
followers  of  the  plough.  Yet  they  displayed  an 
inborn  and  wonderful  capacity  for  self-government, 
and  a  singular  ability  in  devising  governmental 
methods  and  processes  best  fitted  to  meet  their  needs. 

Whence  they  derived  this  capacity  and  ability,  it 
is  impossible  to  say  fully.  But  this  much  may  be 
said  —  that  they  owed  it  in  no  small  measure  to  the 
religion  which  the  Scotch-Irish  immigrant  had 
brought  with  him  from  Ireland.  Presbyterianism 
had  become  the  creed  of  the   border,  and   Presby- 


The  People  who  followed   Boone  8i 

terianism,  with  its  democratic  principles  of  church 
polity,  was  emphatically  a  training  school  in  political 
science  for  the  humblest  layman  as  well  as  the  best 
educated  clere^vman. 

Here,  then,  is  a  foremost  Scotch-Irish  contribution 
to  the  foundation-building  of  the  West;  and,  fof 
the  matter  of  that,  to  the  growth  of  the  American 
governmental  system  as  we  know  it  to-day.  If  for 
this  alone,  the  Scotch-Irishman  of  the  border  back- 
woods should  always  be  held  in  honorable  remem- 
brance. 

Not  that  he  was  without  his  faults.  Progressive 
and  thrifty,  his  thrift  sometimes  developed  into  an 
unpleasant  penuriousness.  As  one  of  his  eulogists 
has  wittily  remarked,  he  kept  the  Sabbath  and  all 
else  that  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  To  a  ready  ap- 
preciation of  his  political  rights  he  added  an  almost 
abnormal  tendency  to  insist  on  his  personal  rights. 
He  was  over-ready  to  take  offence,  and  when  ag- 
grieved, fought  like  a  wildcat.  Many  repulsive 
pictures  of  border  fights  have  been  preserved,  with 
their  eye-gouging  and  nose-biting,  their  rough-and- 
tumble  wrestling  and  kicking.  Moreover,  the 
Scotch-Irish  backwoodsman's  proneness  to  quarrel 
and  fight  was  intensified  by  his  love  of  strong  drink. 
A  writer  who  has  made  a  special  study  of  the  Scotch- 
Irish  in  colonial  North  Carolina  says  that  nearly 
every  farm  of  any  size  had  a  distillery  attached,  and 


82      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

that  much  of  the  corn  grown  was  marketed  in  liquid 
form.     He  adds:  — 

"A  punch  bowl  and  glasses  were  found  among 
the  effects  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  Craighead,  founder 
of  the  earliest  churches  of  the  Mecklenburg  region. 
Whiskey  played  a  great  part  on  funeral  occasions, 
and  especially  at  *  vendues,'  when  it  was  supposed 
to  put  the  buyers  in  good  humor  and  was  charged 
to  the  estate  disposed  of.  The  tavern  on  the  pubUc 
road  was  a  famous  institution  of  these  early  days, 
and  the  variety  of  the  liquors  sold  reminds  one  of 
the  English  inns  that  Dickens  has  portrayed."^ 

Still,  for  all  his  defects,  the  Scotch-Irish  back- 
woodsman compels  warm  admiration.  His  virtues 
far  outweighed  his  vices.  And  it  needed  a  stalwart, 
rugged,  restless,  persevering,  and  fighting  people  to 
conquer  the  wilderness  and  the  savage,  and  win  the 
West  for  civilization.  If  the  Scotch-Irish  took  with 
them  across  the  mountains  their  quick  temper  and 
the  whiskey  bottle,  they  also  took  the  Bible  and 
the  spelling-book,  an  unquenchable  devotion  to 
liberty,  splendid  courage,  and  soundly  democratic 
institutions.  In  the  War  for  Independence  they 
played  a  noble  part,  and  from  that  day  to  the  present 
their  descendants  have  been  found  zealous  in  the 
service  of  the  nation.     Scotch-Irish  blood  has  coursed 

*  Rev.  A.  J.  McKelway's  "The  Scotch-Irish  of  North  Carolina," 
in  The  North  Carolina  Booklet,  vol.  IV. 


The  People  who  followed  Boone  83 

in  the  veins  of  many  a  President  of  the  United  States, 
and  of  a  long  line  of  Cabinet  officers,  Supreme  Court 
Justices,  Senators,  Representatives,  and  State  Gov- 
ernors and  Legislators.  Great,  in  truth,  is  the 
debt  which  America  owes  to  the  Scotch-Irish  of  the 
border. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WESTWARD    HO  ! 

WHEN  Daniel  Boone  returned  to  the  Yadkin 
in  the  spring  of  1 771,  he  fully  expected  to 
remove  his  family  to  Kentucky  within  a  very 
short  time.  But  circumstances,  the  exact  nature  of 
which  does  not  appear  from  the  surviving  records, 
so  retarded  his  plans  that  more  than  two  years  passed 
before  he  was  able  to  make  a  start.  In  all  probabiHty 
the  chief  cause  of  delay  was  the  War  of  the  Regu- 
lation, for,  after  the  battle  of  Alamance,  —  which 
was  fought  May  16,  1771,  —  many  Regulators 
abandoned  their  homes  and  fled,  as  already  stated, 
to  the  Watauga  country.  This  made  land  cheap  in 
many  parts  of  Piedmont  North  Carolina,  and  ren- 
dered it  difficult  for  Boone  to  sell  his  farm,  as  he 
was  obliged  to  do  in  order  to  equip  himself  for  the 
journey. 

In  the  interval  he  paid  at  least  two  visits  to  Ken- 
tucky, and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  on  the 
second  of  these  he  definitely  selected  the  site  of  his 
future  home.  From  both  visits  he  returned  more 
enthusiastic  than  ever  with  respect  to  the  possibilities 

84 


Westward  Ho!  85 

of  the  country  beyond  the  mountains,  and  so  loudly 
and  persistently  did  he  sing  its  praises  that  a  number 
of  his  neighbors,  and  even  distant  settlers,  became 
fired  with  the  desire  of  seeing  it  for  themselves. 
Thus  it  happened  that  when  his  preparations  were 
at  last  complete,  and  he  bade  farewell  to  the  Yadkin 
Valley,  Sept.  25,  1773,  he  found  himself  at  the  head 
of  a  fairly  arge  caravan,  which  was  to  be  consider- 
ably augmented  en  route  by  immigrants  from  the 
Valley  of  Virginia  and  Powell's  Valley. 

It  speaks  volumes  for  the  courage  and  hardihood 
of  Rebecca  Boone  and  other  women  in  the  party 
that  they  unhesitatingly  embarked  on  the  long 
pilgrimage.  Little  danger  was  apprehended  from 
the  Indians,  as  the  various  tribes  had  been  com- 
paratively quiet  since  Pontiac's  futile  uprising  of 
1763-65  and  the  subsequent  treaties  explicitly  rec- 
ognizing the  territorial  rights  of  the  natives.  But 
in  every  other  respect  the  journey  was  certain  to 
prove  arduous  in  the  extreme.  For  the  greater 
part  it  would  have  to  be  made  by  narrow  and  brier- 
choked  trails,  often  precipitous  and  involving  diffi- 
cult ascents  and  descents  of  the  successive  ridges. 
This  meant  that  only  the  absolute  necessaries  for 
existence  could  be  transported,  and  that  the  women 
and  children  as  well  as  the  men  would  have  to  travel 
on  horseback  or  afoot.  Instead  of  sleeping  com- 
fortably  of  nights   in   the    familiar    canvas-covered 


86      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

wagon,  they  would  be  obliged  to  camp  in  the  open 
wilderness,  sheltered  at  most  by  tent-cloth  or  bed- 
coverings  stretched  between  upright  poles.  Their 
food  would  be  meagre,  unless  the  hunting  proved 
good;  and  did  the  weather  turn  stormy,  the  hard- 
ships of  the  journey  would  be  increased  a  thousand- 
fold.^ 

Yet  the  emigrants,  men  and  women  alike,  faced 
the  prospect  with  buoyant  hopefulness.  Leading 
their  pack-horses,  and  driving  a  few  cattle  ahead  of 
them,  they  journeyed  cheerfully  westward,  their 
immediate  destination  being  PowelFs  Valley,  where 
they  were  to  await  the  home-seekers  from  that  sec- 
tion and  from  the  more  northerly  Valley  of  Virginia. 
Five  families  accompanied  the  Boones,  and  if  every 
family  was  as  large  as  Daniel's,  the  caravan  must 
have  been  of  really  imposing  dimensions.  For, 
besides  James  and  Israel,  the  two  children  whose 
births  have  already  been  noticed,  Daniel  and  Rebecca 
had  by  that  time  been  blessed  with  six  sons  and 
daughters,  including  Susannah,  then  thirteen  years 

*  In  another  volume,  "Woman  in  the  Making  of  America,"  I 
enter  in  more  detail  into  this  phase  of  the  territorial  expansion  of 
the  United  States.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  notable  part  played 
by  women  in  the  growth  of  the  nation  has  not  been  sufficiently 
recognized,  and  the  book  to  which  I  refer  endeavors  in  some  part 
to  make  clear  just  what  the  United  States  of  to-day  owes  to  its  heroic 
women  of  the  past. 


Westward  Ho!  87 

old;  Jemima,  eleven;  Lavinia,  seven;  Rebecca, 
five;  Daniel  Morgan,  four;  and  John,  a  mere  infant 
in  arms. 

Until  Powell's  Valley  was  reached  the  journey 
was  without  incident.  There  was  no  thought  that 
deadly  danger  lurked  ahead  —  that,  in  fact,  the 
travellers  were  now  about  to  undergo  an  experience 
so  tragic  as  to  postpone  for  many  months  the  settle- 
ment of  Kentucky.  Boone,  as  had  been  arranged, 
went  into  camp,  pending  the  arrival  of  the  expected 
additions  to  his  party.  At  the  same  time  he  ordered 
his  son  James  to  ride  across  country  with  two  other 
men  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  extra  suppHes  from 
a  CHnch  River  settler  named  Russell.  It  was  not 
many  miles  to  RusselFs  place,  and  the  supposition 
was  that  the  trip  there  and  back  could  be  made 
between  sunrise  and  sunset. 

However,  while  returning  in  company  with  several 
Clinch  River  people  who  had  volunteered  their  assist- 
ance in  carrying  the  supplies,  Boone's  messengers 
lost  the  trail  when  within  three  miles  of  the  encamp- 
ment, and  were  obliged  to  pass  the  night  in  the  for- 
est. It  so  happened  that  their  supper-fire  attracted 
the  attention  of  a  band  of  Shawnees,  homeward 
bound  after  a  hunt  or  a  raid  against  the  Cherokee 
villages  on  the  Little  Tennessee.  The  tempta- 
tion to  secure  some  scalps  was  too  strong  to  be  re- 
sisted.    Surrounding  the  unsuspecting  sleepers  the 


88      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Indians  waited  until  dawn,  and  then  made  their 
attack,  with  rifle  and  tomahawk.  Resistance  was 
impossible,  so  sudden  was  the  onslaught,  and  no 
quarter  was  given.  Even  as  they  sprang  to  their 
feet,  half-dazed  and  groping  for  their  fire-arms, 
the  doomed  victims  sank  back,  pierced  with  bullets 
or  brained  by  a  war-hatchet.  Only  two,  a  Clinch 
River  settler  and  a  negro  slave  belonging  to  Russell, 
escaped  the  carnage.  The  rest,  seven  in  all,  and 
James  Boone  among  them,  were  left  weltering  in 
their  blood. 

The  grief  of  Daniel  and  Rebecca  Boone  over  the 
loss  of  their  first-born,  who  had  grown  into  a  stalwart, 
intelligent,  most  attractive  youth  of  seventeen,  may 
be  better  imagined  than  described.  Leaving  the 
weeping  mother  to  the  kindly  ministrations  of  the 
other  women  in  the  party,  Daniel,  grim  and  silent, 
rode  forward  to  the  scene  of  the  massacre,  guided  by 
the  two  survivors.  He  had  long  been  familiar  with 
Indian  warfare;  had,  as  we  know,  been  himself 
an  Indian  captive,  but  this  was  the  first  time  that 
the  actuality  of  the  Indian  menace  had  been  brought 
directly  home  to  him.  Hitherto  he  had  taken  Ind- 
ian hostility  to  the  white  man  as  a  matter  of  course 
and  had  reckoned  with  it  in  an  impersonal  way. 
Henceforward  he  could  not  but  feel,  as  felt  hundreds 
of  borderers  whose  loved  ones  had  fallen  beneath  the 
red  man's  hand,  that  every  Indian  was  the  incarna- 


Westward  Ho  89 

tion  of  all  that  was  devilish,  treacherous,  and  malig- 
nant, and  should  be  treated  accordingly. 

It  is  easy  for  us  who  have  never  known  the  horrors 
of  the  ambuscade,  the  raid,  and  the  torturing  at  the 
stake  to  condemn  the  spirit  of  unreasoning  revenge 
with  which  the  frontiersmen  were  too  often  swayed 
in  their  dealings  with  savages.  But  let  us  in  imagina- 
tion put  ourselves  in  their  place  —  let  us  stand,  as 
Boone  stood  that  chill  October  morning,  gazing  at  the 
mangled  remains  of  a  beloved  son  —  and  we  shall 
be  far  more  likely  to  sympathize  than  to  condemn.^ 

A  few  words  of  prayer,  and  the  bodies  of  young 
Boone  and  his  companions  were  tenderly  consigned 
to  their  last  resting-place.  Then  the  men  from  the 
Yadkin  returned  to  camp  to  deliberate  as  to  their 
future  course.  By  this  time  their  fellow-immigrants 
from  the  Valley  of  Virginia  and  Powell's  Valley  had 
arrived,  forty  strong,  and  it  was  Boone's  opinion 
that  they  could  safely  proceed.  But  the  others 
demurred.  To  them  it  seemed  probable  that  the 
Shawnee  attack  was  the  precursor  of  a  general 
Indian  uprising,  and  they  held  it  madness  to  cut 
themselves  off  from  all  relief  and  run  the  risk  of 
annihilation.  Let  us,  they  argued  in  substance, 
await   developments;     and   in   the   spring,   if  peace 

^  The  reader  who  would  obtain  a  clear  insight  into  the  borderer's 
point  of  view  is  recommended  to  consult  the  opening  sketch  — 
"The  Pioneer"  — in  James  Hall's  "Tales  of  the  Border." 


90      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

remain  unbroken,  we  can  complete  the  journey. 
In  vain  Boone,  who  had  staked  his  all  on  the  Ken- 
tucky venture,  pleaded  and  expostulated  with  them. 
They  were  obdurate,  and,  as  the  sequel  proved,  were 
wisely  obdurate. 

From  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  un- 
rest and  suspicion  were  once  more  taking  possession 
of  the  Indian  peoples,  as  a  result  of  the  increasing 
evidences  of  the  intention  of  the  English  colonists 
to  enter  in  and  occupy  the  rich  Mississippi  Valley. 
This  was  what  the  old  friends  of  the  Indians,  the 
French,  had  predicted  would  come  to  pass;  and  it 
was  to  check  the  borderers'  westward  tendency  that 
Pontiac  had  organized  his  great  conspiracy.  Fol- 
lowing Pontiac's  conspiracy,  it  is  true,  the  Indians 
themselves  had  promoted  the  westward  movement 
when,  in  1768,  the  chieftains  of  the  powerful  Iroquois 
Confederacy,  by  the  Treaty  of  Fort  Stanwix,  ceded 
to  the  English  all  of  their  claims  to  land  south  of 
the  Ohio  as  far  as  the  Tennessee.  Possibly  they 
imagined  that  the  King's  Proclamation  of  1763,  for- 
bidding English  settlement  beyond  a  certain  distance 
from  the  sea,^  would  operate  to  preserve  this  region 

^The  exact  purpose  of  the  Proclamation  of  1763  has  been  a 
subject  of  Hvely  controversy  among  historians.  Until  quite  re- 
cently, it  was  commonly  represented  as  being  intended  to  restrain 
the  colonists  from  passing  beyond  the  political  and  economic  control 
of  England,  and  was  accounted  a  coercive  measure  constituting  one 


Westward  Ho ! 


91 


from  white  occupation.  If  they  so  imagined,  they 
were  speedily  undeceived. 

Not  only  did  hunters  like  Boone  range  through  it, 
but  prospective  settlers  and  land-speculators,  regard- 
less of  the  King's  Proclamation,  began  to  stake  out 
claims.  Still  further  complicating  the  situation  was 
the  fact  that  many  tribes  denied  the  validity  of  the 
Iroquois  cession,  and  asserted  what  Finley  had  told 
Boone  when  they  first  met  in  Braddock's  campaign 
—  namely,  that  the  country  between  the  Ohio  and 
the  Tennessee  was  a  no-man's  land,  open  to  all  the 
tribes  for  hunting  purposes.  Irritated  and  alarmed, 
the  Shawnees,  Delawares,  Cherokees,  and  other  West- 
ern and  Southwestern  Indians  needed  only  a  sHght 
excuse  to  harry  the  frontier. 

Ample  provocation  was  found  in  the  wanton  mur- 
der by  border  ruffians  of  the  entire  family  of  the 
Mingo  chieftain,  Logan,  an  Indian  of  really  ad- 
mirable characteristics  and  long  a  friend  to  the 
white  man.     As  in  the  days  of  Pontiac,  the  war-belt 

of  the  grievances  which  led  to  the  Revolution.  But  modern  research 
indicates  that  it  was  in  reaHty  designed  to  maintain  peace  between 
the  colonists  and  the  Indians,  by  guaranteeing  to  the  latter  that 
they  should  not,  for  a  time  at  any  rate,  be  disturbed  in  their  pos- 
session of  the  Western  lands.  It  was  thus  a  wise  and  salutary, 
rather  than  a  consciously  repressive,  measure.  For  an  informative 
discussion  of  this  subject  see  G.  H.  Alden's  "New  Governments 
West  of  the  Alleghanies  before  1780." 


92      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  the  blood-stained  hatchet  were  hurried  from 
tribe  to  tribe,  and  soon  a  number  of  simultaneous 
raids  on  widely  separated  settlements  gave  notice 
that  many  chieftains  had  taken  up  Logan*s  cause, 
and  that  another  struggle  between  the  red  man  and 
the  white  was  inevitable. 

It  was  evident,  too,  that  the  Virginia  frontier  was 
destined  to  suffer  most  severely,  and  the  governor  of 
Virginia,  the  energetic  and  forceful  Lord  Dunmore, 
at  once  issued  orders  for  the  raising  of  troops  to  crush 
the  uprising  in  its  inception  by  carrying  the  war  into 
the  enemy's  country.  And,  with  a  consideration 
not  always  found  in  colonial  governors,  Dunmore 
also  ordered  that  messengers  be  sent  to  warn  several 
surveying  parties  known  to  be  at  work  in  the  wilds 
of  Kentucky. 

At  first  it  was  thought  that  word  might  best  be  sent 
to  them  by  way  of  Fort  Pitt  (the  former  Fort  Du- 
quesne,  which  Braddock  had  in  vain  attempted  to 
capture)  and  down  the  Ohio  River  to  the  Falls  of 
the  Ohio.  But  it  was  discovered  that  the  Shawnees 
had  established  so  close  a  blockade  that  navigation 
of  the  Ohio  was  impossible.  Instructions  were  then 
hurried  to  Watauga,  directing  the  employment  of 
"two  good  woodsmen"  to  proceed  into  Kentucky 
by  the  Cumberland  Gap  route.  Obviously  this  was 
a  mission  that  called  not  alone  for  courage  and 
endurance    but    for   a    thorough    knowledge   of  the 


Westward  Ho !  93 

country,  and  the  authorities  at  once  thought  of 
Boone,  who  was  recognized  by  them  as  knowing 
more  about  Kentucky  than  any  other  man  in  all  the 
colonies. 

Ever  since  the  failure  of  his  home-seeking  ex- 
pedition, Boone  had  been  living  in  a  deserted  cabin 
on  the  Clinch,  where  he  had  found  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  supporting  his  family.  He  did  not  need 
a  second  invitation  to  accept  this  opportunity  of 
securing  some  sorely  needed  money.  Taking  with 
him  an  experienced  hunter,  Michael  Stoner,  he 
started  for  the  Gap  about  the  end  of  June,  1774, 
and  within  ten  days  was  in  the  heart  of  Kentucky. 
On  or  before  July  8  he  made  the  discovery  that  the 
Shawnee  attack  of  the  previous  year  had  robbed  him 
of  the  honor  of  planting  the  first  Kentucky  settle- 
ment, for  he  found  thirty-five  men,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  James  Harrod,  engaged  in  laying  out  a  town 
in  the  section  subsequently  included  in  Mercer 
County.^     Warning  them   of  the   danger  to  which 

*  The  present  town  of  Harrodsburg,  known  in  earlier  times  as 
Harrodstown  and  Oldtown.  Lewis  Collins,  in  his  "History  of 
Kentucky,"  dates  the  beginning  of  this  first  Kentucky  settlement 
about  the  middle  of  June,  1774.  But,  as  Harrod  and  his  com- 
panions, in  consequence  of  Boone's  warning,  and  of  an  attack  by 
Indians,  left  Kentucky  shortly  after  Boone's  visit  to  them  and  did 
not  return  until  the  following  spring,  Harrodsburg  was  perma- 
nently settled  less  than  a  month  before  Boone  founded  the  historic 


94      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

they  were  exposed,  Boone  and  Stoner  continued 
overland  to  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio,  hunting  out  and 
notifying  the  surveying  parties  for  whose  safety 
Dunmore  had  been  so  commendably  concerned. 
After  a  brief  rest  at  the  Falls,  the  homeward  jour- 
ney was  begun,  and  exactly  two  months  after  they 
had  left  the  Clinch  Valley  the  plucky  adventurers 
were  once  more  with  their  relatives  and  neighbors, 
having  in  the  interval  completed  a  tour  of  many 
hundreds  of  miles  through  a  practically  unbroken 
wilderness. 

Nor  did  Boone  return  worn  out  by  this  strenuous 

settlement  at  Boonesborough.  James  Harrod  in  many  ways 
closely  resembled  Boone,  and  became  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
characters  in  early  Kentucky.  Collins,  following  Morehead,  thus 
describes  him  :  **  Possessing  qualities  of  a  high  and  generous  nature 
—  tall,  erect,  and  commanding  in  his  personal  appearance  — ■ 
bold,  resolute,  active,  and  energetic  —  inured  to  the  life  of  a  back- 
woodsman, familiar  with  its  dangers,  and  capable  of  supporting  its 
hardships  —  he  was  singularly  adapted  to  the  position  that  he  was 
to  occupy.  His  open,  manly  countenance  —  his  mild  and  conciliat- 
ing manners  —  all  conspired  to  render  him  the  idol  of  his  associ- 
ates. Expert  in  the  use  of  the  rifle,  he  was  a  successful  hunter, 
and  a  skilful  and  dangerous  antagonist  of  the  Indian.  ...  If  he 
received  information  that  a  party  of  hunters  had  been  surprised  by 
the  savages,  'let  us  go  out  and  beat  the  red  rascals,'  was  his  instan- 
taneous order;  and  the  command  and  its  execution  were  synony- 
mous with  him.  .  .  .  Of  a  restless  and  active  temperament,  the  dull 
routine  of  life  in  a  station  was  unsuited  to  him.  He  loved,  like 
Boone,  the  free  and  unrestrained  occupation  of  a  hunter." 


Westward  Ho ! 


95 


feat.  Hearing  that  Sevier,  Robertson,  and  other 
Wataugans  were  marching  to  join  the  army  that 
Lord  Dunmore  had  raised,  he  started  after  them 
with  a  number  of  volunteers  from  the  Chnch  and 
Powell's  Valley.  But  he  was  met  by  orders  to  assist 
in  the  defence  of  the  southwestern  border,  which  had 
been  weakened  by  the  departure  of  the  Wataugans. 
For  this  reason,  and  only  for  this  reason,  he  failed 
to  participate  in  the  great  battle  of  Point  Pleasant, 
Oct.  10,  1774,  when  the  allied  Indians,  led  by  the 
famous  Cornstalk,  suffered  overwhelming  defeat 
after  an  all-day  struggle,  described  by  some  as  the 
most  fiercely  contested  battle  ever  fought  between 
the  Indian  and  the  white.  But  he  none  the  less  con- 
trived to  enhance  his  reputation  as  an  Indian- 
fighter  by  the  bravery  with  which  he  repelled  raid 
after  raid  against  the  settlements  about  the  Clinch. 
"Mr.  Boone,''  the  commanding  ofliicer  of  the 
district  reported,  "is  very  diligent  at  Castle's  Woods, 
and  keeps  up  good  order."  Dr.  Thwaites,  who 
examined  with  the  utmost  care  the  correspondence 
relating  to  Lord  Dunmore's  War,  found  that  it  con- 
tained numerous  complimentary  allusions  to  Boone. 
All  of  which,  of  course,  redounded  to  his  advantage. 
His  fame  spread  even  to  the  tide-water  settlements; 
in  the  comfortable  town  house,  as  in  the  bleak  log- 
cabin,  tales  of  his  exploits  were  recited,  usually  with 
ultrasensational  elaborations;    and  by  the  time  the 


96      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

war  was  at  an  end,  there  were  few  men  of  the  border 
so  well  known  as  he. 

Among  those  who  heard  of  him  was  a  certain 
Richard  Henderson,  of  North  Carolina,  a  man  of 
very  different  type  from  the  borderers.  Born  in 
Virginia,  he  removed  to  North  Carolina  when  a  boy 
of  ten,  making  his  home  in  Granville  County,  where 
his  father  gained  appointment  to  the  unpopular  but 
remunerative  post  of  sheriff.  Young  Henderson 
himself,  when  old  enough,  became  a  constable, 
and  afterwards  under-sheriff,  and  in  this  way  ob- 
tained more  or  less  insight  into  the  aims  and  methods 
of  the  office-holding  oligarchy,  or  "ring,"  that  then 
dominated  county  government  in  western  North 
Carolina. 

What  he  saw  seems  to  have  aroused  in  him  a 
strong  desire  not  so  much  to  correct  the  manifold 
abuses,  which  in  time  led  to  the  Regulation  Move- 
ment, as  to  turn  them  to  his  own  advantage.  Under 
existing  conditions,  as  he  clearly  perceived,  no  class 
of  men  had  better  opportunities  for  "getting  on  in  the 
world"  than  did  lawyers.  He  improved  a  somewhat 
neglected  education,  procured  a  few  law-books, 
and  after  twelve  months  of  diligent  study  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  bar.  Thereafter  he  made  rapid  prog- 
ress, built  up  a  profitable  practice,  and  in  1768, 
at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  was  appointed  a  justice  of 
the  North  Carolina  Superior  Court. 


Westward  Ho !  97 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  Regulation  troubles 
became  acute,  and  before  long  Judge  Henderson 
came  into  collision  with  the  Regulators.  In  the  fall 
of  1770,  while  hearing  cases  at  Hillsborough,  his 
court-room  was  invaded  by  a  mob,  some  minor 
officials  were  beaten,  and  Henderson  himself  was 
so  terrorized  that  during  the  night  he  mounted  a 
fast  horse  and  galloped  out  of  town.  A  month  or 
so  later  his  house,  barn,  and  stables  were  burned. 

After  such  treatment  he  naturally  would  have  less 
sympathy  than  ever  for  the  grievances  and  aspira- 
tions of  the  frontier  people  from  whose  ranks  the 
Regulators  had  been  recruited.  He  had  this  much 
in  common  with  them,  however,  that  he  was  bold, 
enterprising,  and  profoundly  interested  in  the  open- 
ing up  of  the  West.  But  his  was  the  interest  of  a 
speculator,  not  of  a  home-seeker,  and  it  was  coupled 
with  a  high-soaring  and  extraordinary  ambition; 
for  he  dreamed  of  nothing  less  than  emulating  the 
achievements  of  Lord  Baltimore,  William  Penn, 
and  other  colonial  founders  of  earlier  times.  He 
would  establish  in  faraway  Kentucky  a  proprietary 
colony  whose  inhabitants  should  look  up  to  him  as 
their  overlord,  and  from  him  take  title  to  their  lands. 

The  mere  fact  that  Richard  Henderson  could 
conceive  such  a  scheme  marks  him  out  as  a  man 
of  superlative  self-confidence.  But  it  was  by  no 
means  a  scheme  altogether  to  his  credit.      He  knew 


98      Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

perfectly  well  that  Kentucky  was  a  part  of  Virginia, 
and  that  it  also  came  within  the  provisions  of  the 
King's  Proclamation  of  1763.  Nevertheless,  he 
steadily  if  quietly  went  ahead  with  his  plans.  It 
was  his  idea  to  purchase  Kentucky  from  the  Cherokees 
who,  he  asserted,  were  its  rightful  owners;  and  in 
order  to  obtain  funds  for  this  purpose  he  formed  a 
company  which  he  called  the  Transylvania  Com- 
pany, in  accordance  with  the  name  he  intended 
giving  his  colony.  John  Williams,  Leonard  Bullock, 
James  Hogg,  Nathaniel  Hart,  David  Hart,  Thomas 
Hart,  John  Luttrell,  and  William  Johnston,  all  of 
them  North  Carolinians,  were  the  men  whom  he 
prevailed  upon  to  venture  money  in  his  risky  under- 
taking. 

This  necessary  preliminary  completed,  he  visited 
the  Watauga  country  and  sought  out  Boone,^  who, 

^  It  has  often  been  stated  that  Boone  acted  as  Henderson's 
agent  long  before  this  occasion;  and  that,  in  fact,  it  was  as  an 
employee  of  Henderson  that  he  undertook  his  exploration  of  Ken- 
tucky in  1769.  But  I  have  been  unable  to  discover  any  satisfac- 
tory evidence  that  Henderson  even  knew  Boone  until  some  time 
after  the  latter's  return  from  Kentucky  in  1 77 1 .  Moreover,  the  claim 
has  been  recently  made  to  me,  by  Professor  Archibald  Henderson, 
of  the  University  of  North  Carolina,  a  descendant  of  Judge  Hen- 
derson, that  in  developing  his  Transylvania  project  and  purchas- 
ing Kentucky  from  the  Cherokees,  he  acted  under  the  advice  of  an 
eminent  English  jurist  "in  the  closest  confidence  of  the  King," 
and  that  he  therefore  regarded  his  enterprise  as  having  the   royal 


Westward  Ho !  99 

when  the  nature  of  the  project  was  explained  to  him, 
readily  agreed  to  guide  Henderson  to  the  Cherokee 
towns  on  the  Little  Tennessee.  The  Cherokees, 
for  their  part,  enthusiastically  approved  Henderson's 
designs.  They  would  willingly  relinquish  their 
Kentucky  claims,  as  also  their  pretensions  to  a  strip 
of  land  giving  access  to  Kentucky,  provided  only 
that  the  compensation  were  satisfactory.  Early 
in  1775,  accordingly,  the  tribesmen  gathered  at  the 
Sycamore  Shoals,  on  the  Watauga,  and  by  treaty 
ceded  to  the  Transylvania  Company  —  for  a  con- 
sideration variously  stated  to  have  been  two  thousand 
pounds  in  lawful  money  of -Great  Britain,  ten 
thousand  pounds  worth  of  merchandise,  and  but 
"ten  wagons  loaded  with  cheap  goods,  some  fire- 
arms, and  spirituous  liquors"  —  their  shadowy  claims 
to  all  the  country  between  the  Kentucky  and  the 
Cumberland. 

To  no  purpose  did  the  governor  of  Virginia  and 
the  governor  of  North  Carolina  unite  in  denouncing 

sanction.  This  view  of  the  case,  I  understand,  Professor  Hender- 
son will  soon  set  forth  in  a  biography  of  Richard  Henderson. 
That,  whatever  his  motives,  Judge  Henderson  played  an  important 
part  in  promoting  the  early  westward  movement  is  beyond  ques- 
tion, and  for  this  he  is  deserving  of  full  credit.  Without  his  back- 
ing Boone  would  not  have  been  able  to  open  up  his  famous  path- 
way to  the  West,  —  the  Wilderness  Road,  —  and  had  it  not  been  for 
Henderson  and  the  Transylvania  Company,  the  settlement  of  Ken- 
tucky would  have  been  of  far  less  rapid  growth  than  it  actually  was. 


100     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Henderson  and  his  associates  as  an  "infamous  com- 
pany of  land  pirates."  At  a  safe  distance  from  these 
wrathful  functionaries,  and  secure  in  the  knowledge 
that  both  governors  would  be  too  busily  occupied 
in  coping  with  the  rising  spirit  of  independence  to 
follow  up  their  threats,  Henderson  calmly  continued 
his  preparations. 

And,  as  a  first  and  all-important  measure,  he  en- 
gaged Daniel  Boone  to  cleave  a  road  through  the 
wilderness,  and  select  a  seat  of  government  for  the 
proposed  colony. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    BUILDING    OF    THE    WILDERNESS    ROAD 

WHEN  Daniel  Boone  undertook  to  open  up 
a  road  between  the  border  settlements  and 
the  interior  of  Kentucky,  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  foresee  the  important   place  this  rugged 
hio^hway  was  to  hold  in  the  history  of  the  territorial 
expansion  of  the  American  people,  and  the  fame  that 
would   consequently   accrue   to   him   as   its   builder. 
He  could  have  had  no  idea  that  within  a  few  years 
it  would  be  sought  out  and  followed  by  a  continuous 
stream  of  humanity,  of  thousands  of  men  and  women 
—  aye,   and  little  children  —  hurrying  westward  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  powerful,  progressive  common- 
wealths;   and  that  these  westward-hurrying  people 
would  cross  the  mountains  not  as  British  subjects, 
but  as  the  sons  and  daughters  of  a  free  and  indepen- 
dent  republic  whose   limits  and   influence   it  was   to 
be    their    part    to    extend.     Nothing    of  this    could 
Boone  know,  as  he  returned  with  Henderson  from 
the  treaty-making  at  the  Sycamore  Shoals.     But  he 
could  and  did  perceive  plainly  that  after  five  years 
of  futile  effort  the  time  had  come  for  the  realiza- 


102     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

tfon  of  his  fondest  hopes,  and  with  good-will  he 
set  about  the  task  of  recruiting  a  party  of  road- 
makers. 

So  liberal  were  the  terms  offered  to  settlers  by  the 
Transylvania  Company  that  he  found  little  diffi- 
culty in  securing  volunteers.  Squire  Boone  was  one 
who  agreed  to  accompany  him,  and  another  was  his 
companion  on  the  Dunmore  mission,  Michael 
Stoner.  There  were  others  to  enlist  under  him  who 
afterwards  attained  more  or  less  distinction  in 
Kentucky  history  —  men  like  Richard  Callaway, 
William  Bush,  David  Gass,  and  Felix  Walker.  All  to- 
gether, a  company  of  "thirty  guns"  was  organized, 
almost  every  man  of  whom  was  a  trained  woodsman 
and  Indian  fighter. 

It  was  intended  by  Henderson  and  his  partners 
that  the  road  should  begin  within  easy  access  of  the 
principal  route  of  travel  through  the  Valley  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  to  carry  out  this  plan  the  party  rendez- 
voused at  Long  Island,  in  the  Upper  Holston,  just 
south  of  the  present  line  between  Virginia  and  Ten- 
nessee. According  to  an  autobiographical  state- 
ment left  by  Felix  Walker,  and  almost  our  only 
source  of  information  as  to  the  events  of  the 
journey,  the  road-builders  before  starting  explicitly 
agreed  to  put  themselves  "under  the  management 
and  control  of  Colonel  Boone,  who  was  to  be  our 
pilot  and  conductor  through  the  wilderness  to  the 


The  Building  of  the  Wilderness  Road      103 

promised    land."     After   which    the    making   of  the 
Wilderness  Road  began,   March   10,   1775. 

From  the  Holston,  Boone  struck  out  for  Cumber- 
land Gap,  following  as  direct  a  line   as   possible  by 
way   of  Clinch   River   and    Powell's   River,  both   of 
which     were     crossed     without     difficulty.     Indeed, 
as  far  as  the  Gap,  and  for  some  miles  beyond  it, 
Boone's    chief  task   consisted    in    skilfully  directing 
the  path  so  as  to  avoid  abrupt  descents  or  arduous 
climbs,    though    this    was    far    from    being    entirely 
possible,  owing   to   the   mountainous   nature   of  the 
country.     Aside   from    this,    all   that   he    deemed    it 
necessary  to  do  was  to  indicate  the  way  by  blazing 
trees,  and  to  cut  down  the  undergrowth  so  that  it 
could  not  spread  during  the  summer  and  choke  the 

trail. 

Thus,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  hardy  back- 
woodsman accustomed  to  tasks  from  which  others 
would  shrink,  there  was  little  to  test  the  mettle  of 
the  road-builders  until  after  they  forded  Rockcastle 
River  in  southeastern  Kentucky.  Nor,  up  to  that 
point,  had  they  experienced  anything  more  ad- 
venturous than  a  bear-hunt.  But  from  the  time  they 
crossed  the  Rockcastle,  both  difficulties  and  ad- 
ventures began  to  multiply.  To  reach  their  destina- 
tion —  an  open  expanse  in  the  heart  of  the  future 
Blue  Grass  country,  near  the  juncture  of  the  Ken- 
tucky River  and  Otter  Creek,  and  chosen  by  Boone 


104     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

years  before  as  an  ideal  spot  for  settlement  —  they 
were  obliged  to  turn  northward  from  the  Rock- 
castle,^ and  at  once  plunged  into  a  region  of  dead 
brushwood,  through  which  not  even  the  buffalo 
had  penetrated. 

Every  foot  of  the  advance,  for  the  next  twenty 
miles,  had  to  be  won  by  the  most  painful  effort; 
and,  after  chopping  and  burning  their  way  through 
the  brush,  the  road-makers  entered  a  scarcely 
less  difficult  cane-brake  country,  where  the  hatchet 
again  found  constant  employment.  Still  they  coura- 
geously persevered,  slowly  but  steadily  pressing 
forward,  until  the  welcome  moment  when,  in  the 
language  of  Felix  Walker :  — 

"We  began  to  discover  the  pleasing  and  rapturous 
appearance  of  the  plains  of  Kentucky.  A  new  sky 
and  strange  earth  seemed  to  be  presented  to  our  view. 
So  rich  a  soil  we  had  never  seen  before  —  covered 
with  clover  in  full  bloom.     The  woods  were  abound- 

^  Had  they  continued  in  a  westerly  direction  they  could  have 
followed  an  Indian  trail  to  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio.  It  was  this  trail 
which  Benjamin  Logan  took  not  long  afterwards,  and  by  so  doing 
gave  his  name  to  another  and  most  important  branch  of  the  Wilder- 
ness Road.  It  ultimately  became  the  main-travelled  road  for  those 
entering  Kentucky  by  way  of  the  Ohio,  and  for  those  wishing  to 
traverse  Kentucky  and  go  still  farther  north.  The  importance  of 
Boone's  Branch  lay  in  the  access  it  gave  to  the  Blue  Grass  region. 
Both  branches,  however,  are  associated  with  Boone's  memory,  and 
deservedly. 


The  Building  of  the  Wilderness  Road       105 

ing  with  wild  game  —  turkeys  so   numerous  that  it 
might    be   said   they  appeared    but    one    flock,  uni- 
versally scattered  in  the  woods.      It   appeared   that 
nature,  in  the  profusion  of  her  bounty,  had  spread 
a  feast  for  all  that  lived,  both  for  the  animal  and 
rational  world.     A  sight  so  dehghtful  to  our  view 
and  so  grateful   to   our   feelings   almost   inclined   us 
in  transport  to  kiss  the  soil  of  Kentucky  —  in  imi- 
tation of  Columbus,   as  he  hailed   and   saluted  the 
sand  on  his  first  setting  foot  on  the  shores  of  America." 
Their  troubles   and   labors  forgotten,   Boone   and 
his  comrades  hastened  forward,  eager  to  begin  the 
settlement  at  Otter  Creek,  and  confident  that  nothing 
would  occur  to  delay  them.     But  they  were  sadly 
mistaken.     On   the   night  of  March   24,  while  en- 
camped near  Silver  Creek,  in  the  present  Madison 
County,  and  not  more  than  fifteen  miles  from  their 
goal,  they  were  surrounded  by  an  Indian  war-party. 
It  had  not  seemed  necessary  to  Boone  to  post  sentinels, 
as  he  had  every  reason  to  beheve  that  there  would  be 
no    danger   from    the   Indians.     By   the   Treaty  of 
Fort  Stanwix,  as  was  said,  the  Six  Nation  Indians 
had  abandoned  their  claims  to  Kentucky;    by  the 
treaty  ending  Lord  Dunmore's  War  the  Shawnees 
and   other  Northwestern   tribes   had   taken    similar 
action;  and  the  friendship  of  the  Cherokees  had  been 
secured,  for  the  time  being,  by  the  Treaty  of  the 
Sycamore    Shoals.     It   was    not   in    Indian    nature, 


io6     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

however,  to  permit  the  unopposed  advance  of  the 
white  man,  or  forego  an  opportunity  to  avenge  the 
defeat  at  Point  Pleasant,  and  consequently  the  sav- 
ages who  chanced  upon  Boone's  camp  in  Kentucky 
resolved,  if  possible,  to  annihilate  his  company. 

Just  before  sunrise,  after  a  night  of  patient  wait- 
ing, they  silently  took  position  behind  the  trees  about 
the  camp.  Not  an  inkling  of  their  presence  did  the 
road-makers  obtain,  until  aroused  from  sleep  by 
a  chorus  of  ear-splitting  yells  and  a  volley  of  mus- 
ketry. Luckily  for  them,  the  Indians  aimed  too 
high,  and  the  loss  of  life  was  small.  One  man  was 
killed  instantly,  another  was  wounded  so  badly 
that  he  died  three  days  later,  and  a  third,  no  other 
than  Felix  Walker,  was  severely  but  not  fatally 
wounded.  This  was  the  extent  of  the  casualties, 
and  while  several  of  the  whites,  under  the  impression 
that  they  were  greatly  outnumbered  and  that  re- 
sistance would  be  useless,  fled  back  along  the  road 
they  had  so  laboriously  carved  out,  the  rest,  under 
the  leadership  of  Boone,  rallied  and  put  the  Indians 
to  flight. 

Fearing  that  the  attack  was  part  of  a  precon- 
certed plan  to  prevent  the  occupation  of  Kentucky, 
and  that  the  assailants  would  soon  return  with  reen- 
forcements,  Boone  at  once  ordered  his  men  to  begin 
work  on  a  fort,  and  before  nightfall  they  were  securely 
protected  by  a  stout  stockade,  square  in  form,  and 


The  Building  of  the  Wilderness  Road      107 

built  of  logs  six  or  seven  feet  high,  with  but  one  nar- 
row opening.  That  day  and  the  next  passed  without 
incident,  but  on  the  third  day  the  alarm  was  given 
that  a  man  had  been  sighted  skulking  through  the 
woods. 

Finger  on  trigger,  the  road-builders  awaited  the 
expected  attack,  only  to  discover,  to  their  great  relief, 
that  the  man  who  had  so  startled  them  was  not  an 
Indian  but  one  of  the  fugitives  from  their  own  camp. 
The  same  day  the  second  victim  of  the  surprise  died, 
and  his  death  so  unnerved  a  number  that  they 
begged  Boone  to  return  to  Watauga  before  a  similar 
fate  overtook  the  entire  company.  Boone's  reply 
was  a  stubborn,  bitter  negative.^  He  was  resolved 
that,  come  what  might,  he  would  not  again  acknowl- 

^  Felix  Walker's  comment  on  Boone's  management  of  the  ex- 
pedition is  well  worth  quoting :  *'  In  the  sequel  and  conclusion  of  my 
narrative,  I  must  not  neglect  to  give  honor  to  whom  honor  is  due. 
Colonel  Boone  conducted  the  company  under  his  care  through 
the  wilderness  with  great  propriety,  intrepidity,  and  courage;  and 
was  I  to  enter  an  exception  to  any  part  of  his  conduct,  it  would  be 
on  the  ground  that  he  appeared  void  of  fear  and  of  consequences  — 
too  little  caution  for  the  enterprise.  But  let  me,  with  feeling 
recollection  and  lasting  gratitude,  ever  remember  the  unremitting 
kindness,  sympathy,  and  attention  paid  to  me  by  Colonel  Boone  in 
my  distress.  He  was  my  father,  my  physician,  and  friend;  he  at- 
tended me  as  his  child,  cured  my  wounds  by  the  use  of  medicines 
from  the  woods,  nursed  me  with  paternal  affection  until  I  recovered, 
without  the  expectation  of  reward." 


io8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

edge  failure  in  his  efforts  to  gain  lodgment  in  Ken- 
tucky. He  had  also  begun  to  surmise,  as  was  actually 
the  case,  that  the  Indian  attack  had  been  the  work 
of  a  small  band  of  marauders,  and  that  no  assault 
in  force  need  be  feared.  Convinced,  though,  by  the 
attitude  of  his  companions  that  many  of  them  would 
desert  him  unless  relief  soon  arrived,  he  despatched 
a  messenger  to  carry  to  Henderson  the  following  ur- 
gent and  interesting  missive:  — 

"After  my  compliments  to  you  I  shall  acquaint 
you  with  our  misfortune.  On  March  25  a  party  of 
Indians  fired  on  my  company  about  half  an  hour 
before  day,  and  killed  Mr.  Twetty  and  his  negro, 
and  wounded  Mr.  Walker  very  deeply,  but  I  hope 
he  will  recover.  On  March  28,  as  we  were  hunting 
for  provisions,  we  found  Samuel  Tate's  son,  who  gave 
us  an  account  that  the  Indians  fired  on  their  camp 
on  the  27th  day.  My  brother  and  I  went  down  and 
found  two  men  killed  and  sculped,  Thomas  Mc- 
Dowell and  Jeremiah  McPhelters.  I  have  sent  a 
man  down  to  all  the  lower  companies,^  in  order  to 
gather  them  all  to  the  mouth  of  Otter  Creek. 

^  The  reference  is  to  the  Harrodstown  settlers  and  other  home- 
seekers  who  had  wandered  in  ahead  of  Boone's  road-making  party. 
It  has  been  estimated  that  at  that  time  more  than  one  hundred 
white  men  were  scattered  in  small  companies  through  the  country 
about  the  upper  waters  of  the  Kentucky.  But  the  great  majority 
fled  to  Watauga  or  western  Virginia  at  news  of  the  activity  of  the 


The  Building  of  the  Wilderness  Road      109 

"My  advice  to  you,  sir,  is  to  come  or  send  as  soon 
as  possible.  Your  company  is  desired  greatly,  for 
the  people  are  very  uneasy,  but  are  willing  to  stay 
and  venture  their  Hves  with  you,  and  now  is  the  time 
to  flusterate  the  intentions  of  the  Indians,  and  keep 
the  country,  whilst  we  are  in  it.  If  we  give  way  to 
them  now,  it  will  ever  be  the  case.  This  day  we 
start  from  the  battle-ground,  for  the  mouth  of  Otter 
Creek,  where  we  shall  immediately  erect  a  fort,  which 
will  be  done  before  you  can  come  or  send  —  then  we 
can  send  ten  men  to  meet  you,  if  you  send  for  them. 

"N.B. — We  stood  on  the  ground  and  guarded 
our  baggage  till  day,  and  lost  nothing.  We  have  about 
fifteen  miles  to  Cantuck  [the  Kentucky  River]  at 
Otter  Creek." 

This  letter  is  dated  April  i,  and  after  writing  it 
Boone  and  the  majority  of  his  company  began  the 
last  stage  of  their  journey,  leaving  three  or  four  to 
care  for  Felix  Walker  until,  five  days  afterward,  he 
was  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  wound  to  be  car- 
Indians.  The  attack  of  March  27,  to  which  Boone  refers  in  his 
letter,  was  evidently  deHvered  against  the  camp  of  one  of  these  little 
parties.  Boone's  letter,  it  may  be  added,  is  quoted  from  Collins's 
"History  of  Kentucky,"  where  we  find  it  explained  that  "with  the 
exception  of  the  words  sculped  and  flusterated  the  bad  spelling  has 
been  corrected."  It  seems  more  than  likely  that  there  has  also 
been  some  editing.  Boone,  though  by  no  means  illiterate,  was  not 
what  one  would  call  an  expert  letter-writer,  and  was  always  far 
more  at  ease  with  the  rifle  than  with  the  pen. 


no     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

ried  forward  in  a  litter.  Little  actual  road-making 
remained  to  be  done,  since  from  Silver  Creek  the 
route  merged  in  a  great  buffalo  trace  —  as  trails 
were  then  usually  called  —  worn  smooth  by  the  con- 
stant tramping  of  the  heavy  beasts  to  and  fro  from 
the  Big  Lick  of  the  Kentucky,  whither  they  went,  as 
the  name  implies,  to  lick  impregnated  ground  around 
a  salt  spring. 

Indeed,  even  as  they  approached  their  journey's 
end,  the  men  from  beyond  the  mountains  heard  a 
continuous,  dull,  rumbling  sound.  Boone,  who 
understood  its  cause,  bade  them  hurry  to  the  top 
of  a  little  eminence,  looking  down  from  which  they 
beheld  with  astonishment  a  herd  of  two  or  three 
hundred  buffalo  lumbering  awkwardly  from  the 
Lick  and  across  the  Kentucky  River,  followed  by 
young  calves  that  played  and  skipped  about  in  bliss- 
ful unconsciousness  of  the  fate  which  would  soon  be 
theirs,  now  that  the  white  man  had  come  to  take 
possession  of  Kentucky. 

Looking  from  the  eminence,  too,  the  pioneers 
glimpsed  a  magnificent  panorama,  stretching  off  to 
the  north  and  west  across  the  verdant,  rolling  country 
that  in  later  times  was  to  be  covered  with  the  "blue 
grass"  to  which  Kentucky  owes  so  much  of  its  pros- 
perity. As  yet  all  was  wilderness,  with  never  an 
indication  of  the  marvels  to  be  wrought  through  the 
intelligence  of  man.     But  it  did  not  need  a  practised 


The  Building  of  the  Wilderness  Road      iii 

eye  to  perceive  that  Boone  had  brought  his  followers 
to  a  land  of  wondrous  fertility.  Even  in  the  barrens 
about  the  salt  lick  vegetation  was  striving  to  assert 
itself  and  filling  every  nook  and  corner  where  it  could 
hope  to  evade  the  deadly  hoof-beats  of  the  buffalo. 
The  foliage  of  the  forest  trees,  whether  of  the  giant 
oak  or  the  feathery  elm,  was  fast  adorning  the  ample 
boughs,  which  drooped  with  a  fascinating  grace. 
The  ground,  moss-carpeted,  or  dotted  with  the  first 
wild  flowers  of  spring,  invited  the  weary  road-makers 
to  rest,  and,  sinking  down,  they  gave  themselves  to 
undisturbed  enjoyment  of  the  scene  before  them. 

When  they  arose  at  Boone's  bidding,  it  was  to 
descend  a  gentle  slope  to  a  beautiful  level  in  a  shel- 
tered hollow.  Open  towards  the  Kentucky,  which 
coursed  with  quiet  dignity  beneath  a  precipitous 
bank,  the  level  was  well  wooded  as  it  receded  inland. 
Here,  as  Boone  indicated  with  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
was  the  end  of  his  Wilderness  Road  —  of  the  narrow, 
blood-won  path  that  stretched  back  for  two  hundred 
miles,  through  cane-brake  and  thicket,  open  plain 
and  mountain  gorge,  to  the  Watauga  settlements. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BOONE    AS    A    LAW-MAKER 

WHILE  Boone  and  his  companions  were  in- 
dustriously engaged  in  the  erection  of  a 
group  of  cabins  in  the  sheltered  level  by  the 
Kentucky,  a  picturesque  cavalcade  was  slowly  draw- 
ing near  to  them.  At  its  head  rode  Richard  Hen- 
derson. To  do  full  justice  to  the  promoter  of  the 
Transylvania  Company,  it  must  be  said  that,  what- 
ever his  faults,  he  had  in  him  not  a  little  of  the  stuff 
of  which  empire-builders  are  made.  He  was  deter- 
mined that  the  foundations  of  his  mid-wilderness 
colony  should  be  securely  laid,  and  that  he  would 
himself  superintend  at  least  the  first  stages  of  its 
organization.  More  than  a  week  before  Boone's 
messenger  met  him,  he  had  begun  the  long  journey 
westward,  with  an  escort  which  numbered  some 
fifty  persons  by  the  time  it  reached  the  Kentucky. 

Originally,  it  comprised  but  a  personal,  or  ofl&cial, 
following  that  included  two  of  Henderson's  partners, 
Nathaniel  Hart  and  John  Luttrell;  his  brothers, 
Nathaniel  and  Samuel  Henderson;   a  legal  represen- 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  113 

tative  of  the  Cherokees  named  John  Farrar;  an 
adventurous  Virginian,  WilHam  Cocke,  afterwards 
famous  in  Tennessee  history  as  soldier,  legislator, 
and  judge;  a  few  prospective  settlers,  and  several 
slaves.  But  it  constantly  received  accessions  by  the 
way.  In  Powell's  Valley,  where  Henderson  arrived 
March  30,  he  was  joined  by  the  future  renowned 
Indian  fighter,  Benjamin  Logan,  and  by  a  party  of 
immigrants  from  Virginia,  among  whom  was  Abra- 
ham Hanks,  the  maternal  grandfather  of  Abraham 
Lincoln. 

Slow  progress  was  made  until  April  7,  when,  a  few 
miles  to  the  east  of  Cumberland  Gap,  the  messenger 
from  Silver  Creek  arrived  with  the  dismal  news  of  the 
attack  on  Boone's  camp.  Almost  at  the  same  time 
word  was  received  that  five  travellers  had  been  slain 
by  the  Indians  while  endeavoring  to  enter  Kentucky. 
This  alarming  intelligence  caused  some  of  Hender- 
son's followers  to  turn  back,  but  it  had  quite  the  con- 
trary effect  on  Henderson  himself,  as  he  feared  that 
unless  he  soon  brought  up  support  Boone's  road- 
makers  would  abandon  Kentucky,  and  the  Transyl- 
vania enterprise  would  come  to  an  untimely  end. 

It  did  not  diminish  his  fears  to  meet,  a  few  hours 
after  passing  through  the  Gap,  a  party  of  forty  fugi- 
tives who  declared  that  the  Indians  were  out  in  force. 
Dreading  lest  at  any  moment  he  might  also  meet  Boone 
in  flight,  he  called  for  a  volunteer  to  ride  ahead  and 


1 14     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

carry  news  of  his  coming.  For  this  hazardous  ser- 
vice Cocke  promptly  offered  himself,  and,  "fixed  off 
with  a  good  Queen  Anne's  musket,  plenty  of  am- 
munition, a  tomahawk,  a  large  cuttoe  knife,  a  Dutch 
blanket,  and  no  small  quantity  of  jerked  beef,"  ^  he 
galloped  away  amid  the  plaudits  of  the  company, 
many  of  whom,  on  Henderson's  showing,  would 
gladly  have  galloped  in  the  opposite  direction  had 
not  shame  restrained  them.  But,  perceiving  no 
signs  of  the  enemy,  the  panic  gradually  subsided, 
excepting  perhaps  on  the  part  of  the  slaves,  who  im- 
agined they  saw  a  painted  "Injun"  behind  every 
bush.  Henderson  himself,  who  had  too  much  at 
stake  to  retreat,  labored  ceaselessly  to  restore  confi- 
dence and  hasten  the  advance. 

Beyond  meeting  an  occasional  fugitive,  nothing  of 
further  moment  occurred  until  April  15,  when  a  seri- 
ous difference  of  opinion  arose  between  Logan  and 
the  Transylvania  partners,  the  upshot  being  that 
Logan  and  a  friend  named  Gillespie  left  the  main 
party  at  the  Rockcastle,  and  turned  westward  to  take 
up  their  residence  in  Lincoln  County,  some  miles  to 

^  From  a  letter  written  by  Henderson,  June  12,  1775,  to  his  part- 
ners, giving  an  account  of  his  experiences  on  the  road.  This  letter 
is  printed  in  full,  together  with  Felix  Walker's  narrative,  the  "Journal 
of  the  Transylvania  House  of  Delegates,"  and  much  other  valuable 
source  material,  in  George  W.  Ranck's  "Boonesborough,"  one  of 
the  best  of  the  excellent  Filson  Club  publications. 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  115 

the  southwest  of  Boone's  settlement.  Logan's  de- 
parture was  not  at  all  to  Henderson's  liking,  and  still 
less  was  an  interview  he  had  the  following  day  with 
James  McAfee,  a  Harrodstown  settler,  who,  with  his 
brothers  Robert  and  Samuel,  was  hurrying  eastward 
to  escape  the  expected  Indian  avalanche.  These 
McAfees  had  been  among  the  first  to  visit  Kentucky 
after  the  Boone-Finley  expedition  of  1769,  and,  like 
Boone,  Logan,  and  Harrod,  they  became  prominently 
identified  with  its  early  settlement.  They  hailed 
from  Virginia,   and  were  typical  backwoodsmen. 

Henderson,  after  vainly  endeavoring  to  persuade 
them  that  the  danger  from  the  Indians  was  greatly 
exaggerated,  explained  the  purpose  of  his  presence  in 
Kentucky,  and  offered  liberal  terms  of  settlement  if 
they  would  turn  back  with  him  and  take  up  land  in 
the  Transylvania  grant.  To  which  James  McAfee, 
who  seems  to  have  understood  the  situation  better 
than  most  of  the  borderers,  bluntly  replied  that  Vir- 
ginia, not  the  Transylvania  Company,  had  the 
disposal  of  Kentucky  lands.  Samuel  and  Robert 
McAfee,  however,  were  sufficiently  impressed  by 
Henderson's  glib  exposition  of  the  Cherokee  sale,  to 
disregard  their  brother's  advice  and  throw  in  their 
fortunes  with  the  Transylvanians. 

It  was  an  incident,  though,  that  cast  a  damper 
over  the  spirits  of  the  Transylvania  partners,  arguing 
as  it  did  possible  opposition  on  the  part  of  other  bor- 


Ii6     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

derers,  such  as  James  Harrod,  who  had  already 
taken  possession  of  land  within  the  limits  defined 
by  the  Sycamore  Shoals  Treaty.  But  their  thoughts 
were  almost  immediately  diverted  into  more  pleasant 
channels  by  the  appearance  of  Michael  Stoner,  sent 
by  Boone  to  let  Henderson  know  that  all  was  going 
well,  and  to  assist  him  with  a  relay  of  fresh  pack- 
horses.  Henderson  also  learned  from  Stoner  that 
Cocke  had  reached  *'Fort  Boone"  in  safety,  and  that 
Felix  Walker  was  rapidly  recovering  from  the  wound 
sustained  in  the  surprise  at  Silver  Creek. 

April  20,^  two  days  after  they  had  been  joined  by 
Stoner,  and  after  having  been  travelling  for  more  than 
a  month  over  a  road  that  had  proved  for  most  part 
"either  hilly,  stony,  slippery,  miry,  or  bushy,"  the 
three  Proprietors  of  Transylvania  and  their  attend- 
ant retinue  rode  proudly  into  Boone's  little  settle- 
ment, where  they  were  received  with  a  salute  of 
twenty-five  guns.  An  hour  later  the  entire  company 
sat  down  to  a  banquet,  of  which  the  principal  vi- 
ands were  cold  water  and  lean  buffalo  meat. 

Before  nightfall,  spurred  possibly  by  dread  of  in- 

^  This  date  is  worth  noting,  as  it  was  just  one  day  after  the  raid 
on  Concord  and  the  battle  of  Lexington.  It  is  certainly  an  inter- 
esting coincidence  that  the  opening  gun  in  the  struggle  for  indepen- 
dence should  have  been  fired  at  practically  the  time  when  the 
expansion  of  the  American  people  may  be  said  to  have  begun  in 
earnest. 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  117 

terference  from  Virginia,  Henderson  turned  his  at- 
tention to  the  task  of  allotting  land  for  immediate 
settlement,  and  at  once  made  the  distinctly  embar- 
rassing discovery  that  Boone  and  his  companions 
had  preempted  the  choicest  locations  for  themselves. 
Rather  than  have  trouble,  the  tactful  Proprietor 
decided  to  leave  them  in  undisturbed  possession  and 
appease  the  rest  by  locating  the  site  of  the  capital  of 
Transylvania,  not  in  the  sheltered  level  chosen  by 
Boone,  but  some  little  distance  from  it,  on  a  com- 
manding elevation  overlooking  the  Kentucky. 

The  work  of  clearing  away  the  trees  and  under- 
growth began  without  delay,  and  in  little  more  than 
a  week's  time  the  foundations  were  laid  for  a  large 
fortified  "station"  to  which,  fittingly  enough,  the 
name  of  Boonesborough  was  given.  Not  a  vestige 
of  it  remains  to-day,  but  fortunately  a  plan,  drawn 
by  Henderson  himself,  has  been  preserved,  and  from 
this  it  appears  that  Boonesborough  was  a  typical 
paHsaded  village  of  the  pioneering  period.  It  con- 
sisted of  nearly  thirty  one-story  cabins,  arranged  in  a 
hollow  square  and  enclosed  by  a  log  stockade,  part 
of  which  was  formed  by  the  backs  of  the  cabins.  At 
each  cornjer  stood  a  two-story  blockhouse,  the  second 
story  projecting  about  two  feet  over  the  lower,  so  that 
the  inmates  could  shoot  from  above  upon  an  enemy 
attempting  to  scale  the  stockade,  which  was  entered 
by  only  two  gates,  one  opening  towards  the  buffalo 


Ii8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

lick,  the  other  towards  the  river.  Stockade,  cabins, 
and  blockhouses  were  provided  w^ith  little  port- 
holes for  rifles.  It  was  a  rude  system  of  defence,  but 
it  answered  admirably  the  requirements  of  Indian 
warfare. 

Of  course  the  building  of  Boonesborough  took 
time,  but  Henderson  found  much  to  keep  him  busily 
engaged  while  its  construction  was  in  progress.  As 
already  stated,  there  were  earlier  settlers  within  the 
limits  of  the  Transylvania  Purchase,  settlers  at 
Harrodstown  and  also  at  Boiling  Spring,  which  might 
almost  be  called  a  suburb  of  Harrodstown,  since  it 
was  quite  near  that  place  and  had  likewise  been 
founded  by  James  Harrod.  Besides  these  two  set- 
tlements, a  party  of  Virginians,  under  the  command 
of  Captain  John  Floyd,  had  quite  recently  estab- 
lished themselves  on  Dick's  River,  some  thirty  miles 
southwest  of  Boonesborough.  Floyd  was  an  official 
surveyor  for  Virginia,  and  it  seemed  altogether  likely 
that  he  would  refuse  to  recognize  the  validity  of  the 
purchase  from  the  Cherokees.  But  when  he  visited 
Boonesborough,  early  in  May,  he  came  in  the  friend- 
liest mood  imaginable,  assuring  Henderson  that  if 
good  terms  were  offered  to  him  and  his  comrades, 
they  should  gladly  become  citizens  of  Transylvania. 
Otherwise,  they  would  remove  across  the  Kentucky 
and  settle  on  land  not  included  in  the  Cherokee  grant. 
Similarly,  James  Harrod,  speaking  in  behalf  of  the 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  119 

settlers  at  Harrodstown  and  Boiling  Spring,  ex- 
pressed willingness  to  take  title  from  the  Transyl- 
vania Company. 

Greatly  relieved  by  this  agreeable  solution  of  a 
problem  that  had  worried  him  not  a  little,  Henderson 
bent  his  energies  to  the  no  less  difficult  task  of  or- 
ganizing a  government  for  his  colony.  He  had 
seen  enough  of  the  backwoodsmen  —  whom  he 
seems  to  have  heartily  disliked,  for  he  describes 
them  in  his  journal  as  "a  set  of  scoundrels  who 
scarcely  believe  in  God  or  fear  a  Devil,  if  we  were  to 
judge  from  most  of  their  words,  looks,  and  actions" 
—  to  know  that  they  would  insist  on  having  a  voice 
in  the  management  of  affairs. 

The  question  was  how  to  reconcile  their  instinctive 
desire  for  self-government  with  his  determination  to 
keep  the  supreme  authority  in  the  hands  of  himself 
and  his  partners.  If  they  intrusted  to  a  popular 
assembly  the  power  of  making  and  executing  laws, 
it  was  quite  conceivable  that  legislation  fatal  to  the 
interests  of  the  company  might  be  enacted.  The 
only  feasible  course,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  was  to  frame 
a  semi-autocratic,  semi-democratic  scheme  of  govern- 
ment, giving  an  outward  semblance  of  sovereignty  to 
the  "people"  but  withholding  its  realities.  It  was  a 
plan  ill-adapted  either  to  the  temper  of  the  times  or 
to  the  conditions  of  Hfe  in  the  wilderness,  and  it  was 
foredoomed  to  failure.     But  it  promised  well  enough 


120     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

at  first,  and  is  of  the  greatest  importance  to  students 
of  American  history,  since  out  of  it  grew  Kentucky's 
first  constitution,  and  the  first  meeting  of  a  fully 
organized  legislature  west  of  the  Alleghanies. 

The  settlers,  as  may  be  imagined,  were  delighted 
with  the  announcement  that  it  was  proposed  to  con- 
vene a  representative  assembly  with  delegates  from 
each  of  the  four  settlements,  Boonesborough,  Har- 
rodstown.  Boiling  Spring,  and  Floyd's  settlement, 
to  which  the  name  of  St.  Asaph  had  been  given. 
Elections  were  held  about  May  20,  and  on  May  23 
the  delegates  gathered  at  Boonesborough,  where  the 
fort  was  still  so  far  from  completion  that  they  were 
obliged  to  meet  in  the  open,  under  a  giant  elm.^ 

*  Henderson,  in  his  journal,  under  date  of  May  14,  gives  a  graphic 
description  of  this  historic  tree:  "About  fifty  yards  from  the  place 
where  I  am  writing  and  right  before  me  to  the  south  (the  river  about 
fifty  yards  behind  my  camp,  and  a  fine  spring  a  little  to  the  west) 
stands  one  of  the  finest  elms  that  perhaps  nature  ever  produced  in 
any  region.  This  tree  is  placed  in  a  beautiful  plain  surrounded  by  a 
turf  of  fine  white  clover,  forming  a  green  to  its  very  stock  to  which 
there  is  scarcely  anything  to  be  likened.  The  trunk  is  about  four 
feet  through  to  the  first  branches  which  are  about  nine  feet  high 
from  the  ground.  From  thence  above,  ii  so  regularly  extends  its 
large  branches  on  every  side  at  such  equal  distances  as  to  form  the 
most  beautiful  tree  that  imagination  can  suggest.  The  diameter 
of  its  branches  from  the  extreme  ends  is  one  hundred  feet  —  and 
every  fair  day  it  describes  a  semi-circle,  on  the  heavenly  green 
around  it,  of  upward  of  four  hundred  feet,  and  any  time  between 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  I2I 

Boonesborough  was  represented  by  six  delegates, 
and  each  of  the  others  sent  four.  With  few  excep- 
tions the  electors  had  chosen  the  real  leaders  of  their 
respective  communities,  the  men  who  had  been  con- 
spicuous for  their  efforts  to  carry  civilization  west- 
ward. The  Boonesborough  delegation  included 
Daniel  and  Squire  Boone,  William  Cocke,  Richard 
Callaway,  William  Moore,  and  Richard  Hender- 
son's brother  Samuel,  the  last-named  having  been 
elected  probably  out  of  compliment  to  the  chief 
Proprietor.  From  Harrodstown  came  Thomas 
Slaughter,  Dr.  John  Lythe  (a  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England),  Valentine  Harman,  and  James 
Douglas.  James  Harrod  headed  the  delegation 
from  Boiling  Spring,  and  was  accompanied  by 
Nathan  Hammond,  Azariah  Davis,  and  Isaac  Hite, 
two  of  whom,  Davis  and  Hite,  had  been  associated 
with  Harrod  in  the  founding  of  both  Harrodstown 
and  Boiling  Spring.  John  Floyd,  of  course,  was  a 
delegate  from  St.  Asaph,  which  also  sent  John  Todd, 
Samuel  Wood,  and  Alexander  Spotswood  Dandridge. 
It  is  well  to  bear  these  names  in  mind,  for  we  shall 

the  hours  of  ten  and  two,  one  hundred  persons  may  commodlously 
seat  themselves  under  its  branches.  This  divine  tree,  or  rather  one 
of  the  many  proofs  of  the  existence  from  all  eternity  of  its  divine 
Author,  is  to  be  our  church,  state-house,  council-chamber." 
Clearly,  there  was  a  strong  strain  of  the  romantic  and  the  senti- 
mental in  Judge  Richard  Henderson  of  North  Carolina. 


122     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

meet  with  them  again,  and  some  of  them  quite  fre- 
quently, in  connection  with  later  events  of  impor- 
tance. 

A  low  platform  had  been  built  at  the  foot  of  the 
great  elm,  and  around  this  the  delegates  grouped 
themselves,  some  seated  on  the  turf,  others  on  logs, 
and  others  standing  erect,  leaning  on  their  rifles.  It 
was  a  picturesque  assemblage,  and  an  assemblage 
of  serious-minded  men,  very  much  in  earnest.  No 
more  striking  commentary  on  the  spirit  in  which  they 
came  together  can  be  found  than  in  the  fact  that 
they  invited  Dr.  Lythe  to  open  the  proceedings  by 
a  prayer  for  divine  guidance  in  their  deliberations. 

Following  this,  they  elected  Thomas  Slaughter  as 
their  presiding  oflBcer,  and  then  waited  in  a  body  on 
the  three  Proprietors  —  Henderson,  Hart,  and  Lut- 
trell  —  to  notify  them  that  the  "Transylvania  House 
of  Delegates"  had  been  formally  organized,  and 
would  be  pleased  to  hear  any  suggestions  they  might 
have  to  make.  At  this  announcement  —  which, 
needless  to  say,  had  been  prearranged  —  Henderson 
mounted  the  platform  and,  in  a  resonant  voice  and 
with  no  small  dramatic  effect,  read  aloud  a  carefully 
prepared  address. 

Printed  in  full  in  Mr.  Ranck's  "Boonesborough" 
it  constitutes  a  most  interesting  document.  It  re- 
veals Henderson's  constant  and  well-grounded  fear 
of  "foreign"  intervention,  his  anxiety  to  vindicate 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  123 

the  rightfulness  of  the  cession  by  the  Cherokees, 
and  his  intense  desire  to  conceal  from  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  people  of  Transylvania  the  subordinate 
part  which  he  intended  they  should  play  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  Colony. 

He  began  by  artfully  flattering  their  well-known 
democratic  prepossessions,  and  by  emphasizing  in 
glowing  language  the  influence  which  the  laws  drawn 
up  by  them  might  be  expected  to  have.  "If  pru- 
dence, firmness,  and  wisdom,"  he  assured  them,  "are 
suff'ered  to  influence  your  counsels  and  direct  your 
conduct,  the  peace  and  harmony  of  thousands  may 
be  expected  to  result  from  your  deliberations.  .  .  . 
You,  perhaps,  are  fixing  the  palladium,  or  placing 
the  first  corner-stone  of  an  edifice,  the  height  and 
magnificence  of  whose  superstructure  is  now  in  the 
womb  of  futurity,  and  can  only  become  great  and 
glorious  in  proportion  to  the  excellence  of  its  founda- 
tion." He  reminded  them  —  and  the  sentiment  was 
no  doubt  received  with  an  outburst  of  applause  — 
that  "all  power  is  originally  with  the  people."  He 
vehemently  insisted  that  they  had  the  right  to  make 
laws  for  the  regulation  of  their  conduct,  "without 
giving  oflFence  to  Great  Britain  or  any  of  the  Ameri- 
can Colonies,  without  disturbing  the  repose  of  any 
society  or  community  under  Heaven." 

Adverting  to  the  ofliicial  opposition  to  the  Sycamore 
Shoals  Treaty,  he  especially  denounced  the  procla- 


124     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

mation  of  Governor  Martin  of  North  Carolina,  as 
falsely  "placing  the  proprietors  of  the  soil  at  the  head 
of  a  lawless  train  of  abandoned  villains,  against  whom 
the  regal  authority  ought  to  be  executed";  and  he 
urged  the  delegates  to  enact  such  laws  as  would  dis- 
prove utterly  the  charge  that  Transylvania  had  been 
founded  as  '*'an  asylum  for  debtors  and  other  persons 
of  desperate  circumstances." 

This  naturally  led  him  to  speak  of  the  measures 
which  he  regarded  as  essential  to  the  welfare  of  the 
community.  Courts  would  have  to  be  established 
for  the  punishment  of  criminals,  as  also  for  "the 
recovery  of  debts,  and  determining  matters  of  dispute 
with  respect  to  property,  contracts,  torts,  injuries, 
etc."  No  less  important  was  the  organization  of  a 
mihtia  system.  It  was  quite  true  that  as  yet  there 
had  been  no  recurrence  of  the  Indian  alarm,  but, 
Henderson  warned  his  hearers,  it  could  only  be  a 
question  of  time  when  they  would  be  involved  in  a 
war  with  the  savages. 

"I  am  persuaded,"  said  he,  "that  nothing  but 
their  entire  ignorance  of  our  weakness  and  want  of 
order  has  hitherto  preserved  us  from  the  destructive 
and  rapacious  bands  of  cruelty,  and  given  us  an  op- 
portunity at  this  time  of  forming  some  defensive  plans 
to  be  supported  and  carried  into  execution  by  the 
authority  and  sanction  of  a  well-digested  law."  He 
also  referred  to  the  need  for  a  game  law,  pointing  out 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  125 

that  the  buffalo  and  other  food-giving  and  fur-bear- 
ing animals  were  rapidly  disappearing  as  a  result  of 
the  settlers'  wasteful  methods  of  hunting.^  In  con- 
clusion, he  reiterated  the  great  interest  felt  by  the 
Proprietors  in  the  welfare  of  Transylvania,  and  their 
intention  of  cheerfully  concurring  "in  every  measure 
which  can  in  the  most  distant  and  remote  degree 
promote  its  happiness  or  contribute  to  its  grandeur/' 
Highly  satisfied  with  his  address,  the  delegates  set 
about  giving  effect  to  its  recommendations,  and, 
backwoodsmen  though  most  of  them  were,  went  to 
work  with  a  noteworthy  regard  for  parliamentary 
usage.  Committees  were  appointed  to  draw  up  and 
report  bills,  and  when  brought  in,  the  bills  were  de- 
bated, referred  back,  and  amended  before  being  put 
on  final  passage.  In  this  law-making  Daniel  Boone 
was  conspicuous.  He  was  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee intrusted  with  framing  a  law  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  game,  and  he  also  sponsored  a  measure  of 

^  On  this  point  there  is  a  luminous  reference  in  Henderson's 
journal,  under  date  as  early  as  May  9.  "We  found  it  very  difficult 
at  first,"  he  records,  "to  stop  great  waste  in  killing  meat.  Some 
would  kill  three,  four,  five,  or  half  a  dozen  buffaloes  and  not  take 
half  a  horse  load  from  them  all.  For  want  of  a  little  obligatory 
law  our  game  as  soon  as  got  here,  if  not  before,  was  driven  off  very 
much.  Fifteen  or  twenty  miles  was  as  short  a  distance  as  good 
hunters  thought  of  getting  meat,  nay  sometimes  they  were  obliged 
to  go  thirty,  though  by  chance  once  or  twice  a  week  buffalo 
was  killed  within  five  or  six  miles.'* 


126     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

great  historic  interest  —  a  bill  for  improving  the 
breed  of  horses.  Little  did  the  rugged  road-maker 
and  pioneer  dream  that  in  this  bill  lay  the  germ  for 
Kentucky's  future  fame  as  the  land,  par  excellence, 
of  fine  horses. 

Other  bills  passed  during  the  brief  session  —  it 
lasted  less  than  a  week  —  related  to  the  establish- 
ment of  a  militia  and  tribunals  of  justice,  the  regu- 
lating of  legal  fees  and  of  the  issuance  of  writs  of 
attachment,  and,  finally,  "an  act  to  prevent  profane 
swearing  and  Sabbath  breaking."  Here,  in  truth, 
we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Covenanter  spirit,  of 
the  sound  religious  principles  which  these  rough- 
and-ready  frontiersmen  brought  with  them  from 
their  cabin  homes  of  the  Virginia  and  CaroHna 
border. 

But  the  principal  event  of  the  session  was  the  sign- 
ing of  a  compact  between  the  Proprietors  and  the 
representatives  of  the  people.  This  was  the  colony's 
constitution,  and  the  earliest  document  of  the  kind 
—  barring  the  Watauga  Articles  of  Association, 
which  have  not  come  down  to  us  —  recorded  in  the 
annals  of  the  West.  According  to  the  "  Journal  of  the 
House  of  Delegates,"  it  was  drawn  up  by  a  com- 
mittee consisting  of  Representatives  Todd,  Lythe, 
Douglas,  and  Hite;  but  to  judge  from  the  evidence 
afforded  by  its  provisions,  it  must  have  been  prepared 
under  the  watchful  eye  of  Richard  Henderson.     It 


^py^ 


y.     ^ 


^■^^^.tiM 


iiifc^^fe-  T  r  mam  iiTi  nimtliir»if  I  If 'i  I'lmitffif  nil 


^ 


5     a 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  127 

unmistakably  surrendered  the  control  of  public 
business  to  the  Proprietors,  and  left  the  House  of 
Delegates  with  the  shadow  rather  than  the  substance 
of  authority.  Yet  it  contained  some  praiseworthy 
features,  particularly  a  clause  declaring  for  religious 
toleration.  It  is  not  a  long  document,  and  is  well 
worth  reprinting. 

"Whereas,"  it  opens,  "it  is  highly  necessary  for 
the  peace  of  the  Proprietors  and  the  security  of  the 
people  of  this  Colony,  that  the  powers  of  the  one  and 
the  Kberties  of  the  other  be  ascertained;  We,  Richard 
Henderson,  Nathaniel  Hart,  and  J.  Luttrell,  on  be- 
half of  ourselves  as  well  as  the  other  Proprietors  of 
the  Colony  of  Transylvania,  of  the  one  part,  and  the 
representatives  of  the  people  of  said  Colony,  in  con- 
vention assembled,  of  the  other  part  —  do  most 
solemnly  enter  into  the  following  contract  or  agree- 
ment, to  wit:  — 

"That  the  election  of  delegates  in  this  Colony  be 

annual. 

"That  the  Convention  may  adjourn,  and  meet 
again  on  their  own  adjournment;  Provided,  that  in 
cases  of  great  emergency,  the  Proprietors  may  call 
together  the  delegates  before  the  time  adjourned  to; 
and,  if  a  majority  do  not  attend,  they  may  dissolve 
them  and  call  a  new  one. 

"That,  to  prevent  dissension  and  delay  of  busi- 
ness, one  Proprietor  shall  act  for  the  whole,  or  some 


128     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

one  delegated  by  them  for  that  purpose,  who  shall 
always  reside  in  the  Colony. 

"That  there  be  perfect  religious  freedom  and 
toleration;  Provided,  that  the  propagators  of  any 
doctrine  or  tenets  evidently  tending  to  the  subversion 
of  our  laws,  shall,  for  such  conduct,  be  amenable  to, 
and  punished  by,  the  civil  courts. 

"That  the  judges  of  the  superior  or  supreme 
courts  be  appointed  by  the  Proprietors,  but  be  sup- 
ported by  the  people,  and  to  them  be  answerable  for 
their  malconduct. 

"That  the  quit-rents  never  exceed  two  shillings 
per  hundred  acres. 

"That  the  Proprietors  appoint  a  sheriff,  who  shall 
be  one  of  three  persons  recommended  by  the  court. 

"That  the  judges  of  the  superior  courts  have, 
without  fee  or  reward,  the  appointment  of  the  clerks 
of  this  colony. 

"That  the  judges  of  the  inferior  courts  be  recom- 
mended by  the  people,  and  approved  by  the  Pro- 
prietors, and  by  them  commissioned. 

"That  all  other  civil  and  military  officers  be  within 
the  appointment  of  the  Proprietors. 

"That  the  office  of  surveyor-general  belong  to  no 
person  interested  or  a  partner  in  this  purchase. 

"That  the  legislative  authority,  after  the  strength 
and  maturity  of  the  Colony  will  permit,  consist  of 
three  branches,  to  wit:    the  delegates  or  representa- 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  129 

tives  chosen  by  the  people;  a  council,  not  exceeding 
twelve  men,  possessed  of  landed  estate,  who  reside 
in  the  Colony,  and  the  Proprietors. 

"That  nothing  with  respect  to  the  number  of 
delegates  from  any  town  or  settlement  shall  here- 
after be  drawn  into  precedent,  but  that  the  number 
of  representatives  shall  be  ascertained  by  law,  when 
the  state  of  the  Colony  will  admit  of  amendment. 

"That  the  land  office  be  always  open. 

"That  commissions  without  profit  be  granted 
without  fee. 

"That  the  fees  and  salaries  of  all  officers  appointed 
by  the  Proprietors,  be  settled  and  regulated  by  the 
laws  of  the  country. 

"That  the  Convention  have  the  sole  power  of  rais- 
ing and  appropriating  all  public  moneys,  and  elect- 
ing their  treasurer. 

"That,  for  a  short  time,  till  the  state  of  the  Colony 
will  permit  to  fix  some  place  of  holding  the  Conven- 
tion which  shall  be  permanent,  the  place  of  meeting 
shall  be  agreed  upon  between  the  Proprietors  and 
the  Convention. 

"To  the  faithful  and  religious  and  perpetual  obser- 
vance of  all  and  every  of  the  above  articles,  the  said 
Proprietors,  on  behalf  of  themselves  as  well  as  those 
absent,  and  the  chairman  of  the  Convention,  on 
behalf  of  them  and  their  constituents,  have  hereunto 
interchangeably   set   their   hands    and    affixed    their 


130     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

seals,  the  twenty-seventh  day  of  May,  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  seventy-five." 

Thus,  the  taxing  power  was  the  sole  governmental 
faculty  of  any  importance  bestowed  on  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  people.  Otherwise  there  was 
scarcely  any  check  on  the  Proprietors,  who  could  fill 
the  courts  and  other  civil  oflRces  with  functionaries 
of  their  own  choosing,  could  select  military  officers 
subservient  to  their  wishes;  and,  by  resorting  to 
the  clause  providing  for  the  dissolution  of  the  Con- 
vention might  so  manoeuvre  that  even  the  popular 
branch  of  the  legislature  would  be  "packed"  in 
their  interest.  It  was,  in  fine,  an  excellent  frame- 
work for  the  creation  of  an  oligarchic  system  not 
unlike  that  under  which  Henderson  and  several  of 
his  Transylvania  partners  had  flourished  in  North 
Carolina.  But,  as  the  Regulator  Movement  had 
demonstrated  in  the  case  of  the  North  CaroHna 
system,  the  oligarchic  and  the  autocratic  could  not 
hope  to  endure  in  the  free  air  of  the  border. 

For  the  present,  however,  no  objections  were 
raised,  and  the  delegates  brought  their  labors  to  a 
close  by  participating  in  a  singular  but  impressive 
ceremony,  intended  probably  to  confirm  them  in  the 
idea  that  all  who  would  settle  in  Transylvania  must 
purchase  their  land  from  the  Company.  As  was 
said  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  Henderson 
had  been  accompanied  from  Watauga  by  a  lawyer 


Boone  as  a  Law-maker  131 

named  Farrar,  retained  as  the  representative  of  the 
Cherokees.  On  the  morning  after  the  signing  of 
the  compact,  Henderson,  standing  under  the  huge 
elm,  read  to  the  delegates  the  title  deed  executed 
by  the  Cherokees,  and  called  upon  Farrar  to  com- 
plete the  cession  of  the  soil  by  performing  the  ancient 
feudal  ceremony  of  "livery  of  seisin."  Stooping 
down,  the  lawyer  cut  out  a  piece  of  the  luxuriant  turf 
and  handed  it  to  Henderson,  pronouncing  as  he  did 
so  the  legal  formula  by  which  possession  of  the  soil 
was  specifically  "dehvered'*  to  the  Transylvania 
Proprietors. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  May  28,  the  representatives 
from  Harrodstown,  Boiling  Spring,  and  St.  Asaph 
started  for  their  homes,  but  before  their  departure 
all  attended  divine  service,  conducted  by  Dr.  Lythe 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  giant  elm.  "It  was," 
as  Mr.  Ranck  finely  says,  in  his  history  of  Boones- 
borough,  "a  religious  event  absolutely  unique. 
Most  of  the  usual  accessories  of  the  service  were 
wanting,  from  echoing  church  bell  and  *long  drawn 
aisle'  to  pealing  organ.  No  woman  was  there  to  join 
in  litany  or  hymn,  no  child  to  lisp  *amen.'  Only 
men  were  present  —  Dissenters  as  well  as  Episcopa- 
lians —  for  common  dangers  had  drawn  them  to- 
gether, and  this  one  chance  for  public  worship  was 
eagerly  seized  by  pioneers  who  were  as  strong  in 
simple  faith  as  stout  in  heart." 


132     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

As  was  the  custom,  prayers  were  said  for  the  king 
and  royal  family  of  England.  It  was  the  first  and 
last  time  such  prayers  were  publicly  recited  on  the 
soil  of  Kentucky.  Within  a  week  new-comers 
from  the  East  brought  the  long-delayed  tidings  of 
the  battle  of  Lexington.  From  settlement  to  settle- 
ment the  news  flew  like  wild-fire,  to  create  in  each 
a  furore  of  excitement  and  enthusiasm.  Nor  can 
we  believe  that  the  liberty-loving  sons  of  the  unfet- 
tered frontier  would  have  huzzaed  one  whit  less 
loudly  could  they  have  foreseen  the  woes  which  the 
struggle  for  independence  was  to  bring  upon  them. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    PASSING   OF   TRANSYLVANIA 

WITH  the  adjournment  of  the  House  of  Dele- 
gates the  people  of  Boonesborough  settled 
down  to  the  everyday  Hfe  of  the  frontier, 
cultivating  the  corn  and  vegetables  which  they  had 
planted  at  the  time  of  their  arrival,  completing  the 
construction  of  their  dwelhng-places,  and  going  on 
long  hunts.  There  were  numerous  departures,  both 
of  settlers  who,  like  Daniel  Boone,  wished  to  bring  out 
their  families,  and  of  others,  such  as  William  Cocke, 
who  had  journeyed  to  Kentucky  more  in  a  spirit  of 
adventure  and  curiosity  than  as  true  home-seekers. 

Boone  was  among  the  first  to  leave,  setting  out 
June  13  in  company  with  a  number  of  young  men 
sent  by  Henderson  to  obtain  fresh  supplies  from  the 
Watauga  settlements.  He  found  his  wife  and 
children  well,  and  late  in  the  autumn  returned  with 
them.  A  few  days  afterwards  Richard  Callaway, 
who  had  gone  East  on  a  similar  mission,  arrived 
at  Boonesborough  with  Mrs.  Callaway  and  their  boys 
and  girls,  together  with  several  other  immigrants 
and  their  families.     To  Boone's  wife  and  daughters, 

^33 


134     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

however,  as  he  often  recalled  with  pride,  belongs 
the  honor  of  having  been  the  first  white  women  to 
set  foot  on  the  banks  of  the  Kentucky. 

Meantime,  Henderson  and  Luttrell  had  started 
for  North  Carolina  in  order  to  confer  with  their 
partners  regarding  the  future  of  Transylvania. 
The  American  Revolution  had  by  this  time  made 
such  progress  that  no  danger  was  to  be  apprehended 
from  the  representatives  of  the  British  Crown  either 
in  Virginia  or  North  Carohna,  and  although  Hender- 
son was  well  aware  that  the  recently  created  patriot 
government  of  Virginia  would  be  unwilling  to  forego 
Virginia's  claim  to  the  whole  of  Kentucky,  he  was 
hopeful  of  being  able  to  persuade  the  Continental 
Congress  to  recognize  the  vahdity  of  his  purchase 
from  the  Indians. 

Should  the  Congress  take  such  action  it  would, 
he  felt,  estabHsh  for  all  time  the  right  of  the  Transyl- 
vania Company  to  dispose  of,  as  its  members  saw  fit, 
the  seventeen  million  acres  embraced  in  the  Cherokee 
Cession.  In  any  event,  something  had  to  be  done 
to  relieve  the  Proprietors  of  the  perpetual  anxiety 
created  by  the  knowledge  that  at  any  time  Transyl- 
vania might  be  overrun  by  an  army  of  immigrants 
unwilling  to  pay  for  the  land  on  which  they  chose 
to  settle,  and  basing  their  refusal  on  the  prior  right 
of  Virginia  to  the  country. 

Arriving  in  North  Carohna  about  the  middle  of 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  135 

September,  Henderson  immediately  called  a  general 
meeting  of  the  Company.  It  was  held  at  the  little 
town  of  Oxford,  in  Granville  County,  with  seven 
of  the  nine  partners  present,  the  absentees  being 
David  Hart  and  his  brother  Nathaniel,  who  had 
remained  at  Boonesborough  to  keep  a  watchful  eye 
on  the  trend  of  events.  After  taking  action  on  several 
matters  of  a  personal  or  purely  commercial  character 
—  such  as  fixing  the  terms  under  which  future  settlers 
could  obtain  land,  appointing  John  Williams  as  the 
Company's  permanent  representative  in  Transyl- 
vania, and  voting  Daniel  Boone  a  gift  of  two  thousand 
acres  in  recognition  of  "the  signal  services  he  has 
rendered  to  the  Company"  —  the  Proprietors  gave 
their  undivided  attention  to  the  all-important  prob- 
lem of  successfully  combatting  the  almost  certain 
opposition   of  Virginia. 

It  was  boldly  resolved  to  endeavor  to  secure  Tran- 
sylvania's admission  as  the  fourteenth  Colony  in  the 
Revolutionary  Union,  and  for  this  purpose  the 
partners  selected  one  of  their  number,  James  Hogg, 
to  lay  before  the  Continental  Congress  a  memorial  in 
which,  after  a  preamble  setting  forth  their  firm  belief 
in  the  legahty  of  the  purchase,  and  their  determina- 
tion "to  give  it  up  only  with  their  lives,"  they  ex- 
pressed an  earnest  desire  to  be  considered  "as 
brethren  engaged  in  the  same  great  cause  of  liberty 
and  of  mankind,"  and  concluded  by  saying:  — 


136     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

"From  the  generous  plan  of  liberty  adopted  by 
the  Congress  and  that  noble  love  of  mankind  which 
appears  in  all  their  proceedings,  the  memorialists 
please  themselves  that  the  United  Colonies  will  take 
the  infant  Colony  of  Transylvania  into  their  pro- 
tection; and  they,  in  return,  will  do  everything  in 
their  power,  and  give  such  assistance  in  the  general 
cause  of  America  as  the  Congress  shall  judge  to  be 
suitable  to  their  abilities.  Therefore  the  memorial- 
ists hope  and  earnestly  expect  that  Transylvania  may 
be  added  to  the  number  of  the  United  Colonies,  and 
that  James  Hogg,  Esq.,  be  received  as  their  delegate, 
and  admitted  to  a  seat  in  the  honorable  the  Con- 
tinental Congress." 

An  instructive  side-light  on  the  men  who  composed 
the  Transylvania  Company  is  afforded  by  the  fact 
that  they  did  not  hesitate  to  turn  Hogg's  delicate 
mission  to  money-making  purposes.  "Resolved," 
reads  one  of  the  resolutions  adopted  at  the  same 
meeting,  "that  Mr.  Hogg  be  empowered  to  treat 
and  contract  with  any  person  or  persons  who  may 
incHne  to  purchase  lands  from  the  Company,  and 
that  he  be  allowed  his  expenses  for  transacting  the 
above  business." 

Excepting  the  suave  Richard  Henderson,  Hogg 
was  perhaps  the  best-fitted  of  them  all  for  this  sordid 
combination  of  diplomacy  and  land-jobbing.  He 
was  a  shrewd,  canny  Scot,  with  an  eye  ever  open  to 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  137 

the  main  chance;  he  was  a  man  of  good  appearance 
and  plausible  manner,  and  he  was  abundantly  en- 
dowed with  what,  in  the  slang  of  the  present  day, 
would  be  described  as  "  nerve."  ^  When  he  reached 
Philadelphia,  he  found  Congress  absorbed  in  the 
serious  work  of  reorganizing  and  providing  for  the 
patriot  army,  but  this  did  not  prevent  him  from 
thrusting  himself  and  his  affairs  upon  its  attention. 
He  sought  out  John  Adams,  Samuel  Adams,  Silas 
Deane,  and  other  leading  men,  and  by  sheer  per- 
sistency interested  them  in  Transylvania. 

They  examined  the  maps  he  had  brought  with  him 
from  North  Carolina,  listened  carefully  to  his  de- 
tailed recital  of  the  circumstances  attending  the 
purchase  from  the  Cherokees,  the  building  of  the 
Wilderness  Road,  and  the  setthng  of  Boonesborough, 
and  gave  their  cordial  approval  to  the  democratic 
manner  in  which  the  settlers  had  been  brought 
together  in  convention  for  the  purpose  of  framing 
the  laws  of  the  Colony.  But  they  made  it  plainly 
evident  that  they  would  not  countenance  any  pro- 
prietary form  of  government.  Silas  Deane,  ever 
an  enthusiast  in  the  cause  of  liberty  and  democracy, 
was  even  at  the  pains  of  drawing  up  an  outline  scheme 

^  It  is  perhaps  worth  noting  that  the  term  "nerve"  also  found 
place  in  the  slang  of  the  border.  But  the  pioneers  used  it  to  indi- 
cate a  high  and  praiseworthy  degree  of  courage,  not  in  its  modern 
implication  of  unblushing  effrontery. 


138     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

of  government  for  the  new  Colony,  based  on  the 
Connecticut  system. 

"You  would  be  amazed,"  wrote  Hogg  to  Hender- 
son, "to  see  how  much  in  earnest  these  speculative 
gentlemen  are  about  the  plan  to  be  adopted  by  the 
Transylvanians.  They  entreat,  they  pray,  that 
we  make  it  a  free  government,  and  beg  that  no 
mercenary  or  ambitious  views  in  the  Proprietors  may 
prevent  it.  Quit-rents,  they  say,  is  a  mark  of  vassal- 
age, and  hope  they  will  not  be  estabhshed  in  Transyl- 
vania. They  even  threaten  us  with  their  opposition 
if  we  do  not  act  upon  liberal  principles  when  we 
have  it  so  much  in  our  power  to  render  ourselves 
immortal.  Many  of  them  advised  a  law  against 
negroes.'' 

But,  besides  the  obnoxious  proprietary  element 
in  the  government  of  Transylvania,  there  was  an 
insuperable  obstacle  to  recognizing  the  new  Colony, 
even  though  Virginia  should  make  no  protest. 
At  that  time  all  hope  of  a  reconciliation  with  the 
mother  country  had  not  been  abandoned,  and  as 
the  Adamses  pointed  out  to  Hogg,  Congress  would 
be  greatly  handicapped  in  its  efforts  towards  a  peace- 
ful adjustment  if  it  received  into  the  Union  a  Colony 
established  on  land  purchased  from  the  Indians  by 
private  individuals,  for  such  a  purchase  was  ex- 
pressly  forbidden   by   the    King's    Proclamation   of 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  139 

"We  have  petitioned  and  addressed  the  king,"  said 
they,  "  and  have  entreated  him  to  point  out  some 
mode  of  accommodation.  There  seems  to  be  an  im- 
propriety in  embarrassing  our  reconcihation  with 
anything  new;  and  the  taking  under  our  protection 
a  body  of  people  who  have  acted  in  defiance  of  the 
king's  proclamations  will  be  looked  on  as  a  con- 
firmation of  that  independent  spirit  with  which  we 
are  daily  reproached." 

Nothing  daunted,  Hogg  pointed  to  a  clause  in 
the  Proprietors'  memorial  disavowing  any  desire 
of  throwing  off  their  allegiance  to  the  Crown.  This, 
though,  scarcely  met  the  objection  raised  by  the 
Adamses.  Still  Hogg  persisted  until,  to  be  rid  of 
him,  they  declared  that,  as  Transylvania  fell  within 
the  charter  boundaries  of  Virginia,  they  could  make 
no  move  in  his  favor  without  the  consent  of  their 
colleagues  from  Virginia. 

It  was  an  unwelcome  intimation,  and  with  the 
gloomiest  forebodings  Hogg  interviewed  Jefferson 
and  Wythe,  two  of  Virginia's  delegates  to  Congress. 
He  was  careful  to  say  nothing  whatever  about  the 
memorial,  or  about  his  pretensions  to  a  seat  in  Con- 
gress, and  simply  explained  that  the  Transylvania 
Company,  fearing  misrepresentations  against  it, 
had  sent  him  to  Philadelphia  to  let  it  be  known 
that  the  Proprietors  and  people  of  Transylvania  were 
heartily  on  the  side  of  liberty.     He  hoped,  therefore, 


140     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

that  the  gentlemen  from  Virginia  would  have  no 
objection  to  his  laying  the  views  and  desires  of  Tran- 
sylvania before  Congress. 

In  reply,  as  he  had  fully  expected,  Jefferson  and 
Wythe  hinted  that  it  would  be  well  first  to  determine 
the  status  of  Transylvania,  —  that  quite  possibly 
Virginia  might  wish  to  exercise  its  charter  rights,  — 
and,  until  such  determination  were  had,  they  would 
strongly  oppose  any  "acknowledgment"  of  Transyl- 
vania by  Congress.  To  be  sure,  Jefferson  promised 
"that  if  his  advice  were  followed,  all  the  use  they 
should  make  of  their  charter  would  be  to  prevent 
any  arbitrary  or  oppressive  government  to  be  estab- 
Hshed  within  the  boundaries  of  it'^;  and  he  further 
assured  Hogg  "that  it  was  his  wish  to  see  a  free 
government  established  at  the  back  of  theirs,  properly 
united  with  them.''  ^  But  he  would  by  no  means 
consent  to  Congressional  recognition  of  Transylvania 
as  a  separate  Colony,  prior  to  the  renunciation  of 
Virginia's  claim  by  the  people  of  Virginia  in  con- 
vention assembled. 

The  thing  for  you  to  do,  he  bluntly  told  Hogg,  is 
to  send  a  representative  to  the  next  Convention  and 
gain  its  approval  —  the  matter  is  one  for  Virginia 

^  From  Hogg's  report  of  the  results  of  his  "embassy,"  a  curious 
and  interesting  document.  It  may  be  consulted  in  Peter  Force's 
"American  Archives,"  Vol.  IV  of  the  Sixth  Series;  or  in  Mr. 
Ranck's  "  Boonesborough." 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  141 

to  decide,  not  Congress.  Wythe  was  of  the  same 
opinion,  and  so  was  Richard  Henry  Lee,  whom  Hogg 
interviewed  a  few  days  later.  Other  delegates,  in- 
cluding the  North  CaroKnians  Hooper  and  Hewes, 
who  had  been  very  friendly  to  him,  warned  him  that 
Congress  would  do  nothing,  and  that  it  would  be 
unwise  for  him  to  press  farther  for  recognition. 

He  had  arrived  at  Philadelphia  late  in  October; 
before  the  end  of  November  he  was  homeward 
bound,  reluctantly  persuaded  that  his  mission  had 
proved  a  failure,  at  any  rate  on  its  diplomatic  side; 
and,  by  the  opening  of  the  new  year,  the  Transylvania 
partners  were  feverishly  preparing  for  the  bitter 
political  fight  which  it  was  now  certain  they  would 
have  to  wage  in  Virginia. 

In  the  interval  a  storm  had  been  brewing  for  them 
in  quite  another  quarter  —  in  Transylvania  itself. 
All  through  the  summer  and  autumn  a  constant, 
if  as  yet  comparatively  insignificant,  stream  of 
immigration  had  flowed  across  the  mountams, 
through  Cumberland  Gap,  and  along  the  Wilderness 
Road  to  the  mid-Kentucky  wilderness.  Among 
the  newcomers  were  men  destined  to  fill  conspicuous 
roles  in  the  dramatic  and  tragic  struggle  of  the  next 
few  years.  One  of  them  was  George  Rogers  Clark, 
the  future  conqueror  of  Kaskaskia  and  Vincennes 
and  hero  of  the  unforgettable  mid-winter  march 
across  the  drowned  lands  of  the  Wabash.     Another 


142     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

was  William  Whitley,  the  celebrated  hunter,  scout, 
and  Indian  fighter. 

Jesse  Benton,  the  father  of  that  great  statesman 
of  the  West,  Thomas  Hart  Benton,  also  came  in 
about  this  time,  as  did  the  recklessly  brave  Hugh 
McGary,  whom  we  shall  find  leading  the  Ken- 
tuckians  to  destruction  at  the  battle  of  the  Blue  Lick. 
Still  another  arrival  during  the  autumn  of  1775, 
though  not  by  the  Wilderness  Road,  was  Robert 
Patterson,  a  participant  in  the  founding  of  three 
cities,  Lexington  in  Kentucky,  and  Cincinnati  and 
Dayton  in  Ohio. 

All  together,  between  two  and  three  hundred  home- 
seekers  were  added  to  the  population  of  Transylvania 
before  the  close  of  1775.  They  could  not  reasonably 
expect  to  take  land  under  the  terms  offered  by  the 
Company  to  those  who  had  opened  up  the  country 
during  the  spring  of  that  year,  but  they  by  no  means 
anticipated  the  stiff  advance  in  prices  put  into  effect 
upon  the  arrival  of  the  Company's  agent,  John 
Williams,  about  the  beginning  of  December. 

Formerly,  land  had  been  offered  at  twenty  shilhngs 
per  hundred  acres;  now  the  same  acreage  was  to 
cost  fifty  shillings,  with  the  expectation  of  a  further 
advance  after  June  i,  1776.  No  single  allotment 
was  to  include  more  than  six  hundred  and  forty 
acres,  "except  in  particular  cases,"  and  on  every 
hundred  acres  an  annual  quit-rent  of  two  shillings 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  143 

would  be  exacted  from  old  and  new  settlers  alike. 
Every  title-deed  was  to  contain  a  clause  requiring 
the  purchaser  to  hand  over  to  the  Company  one-half 
of  all  the  gold,  silver,  copper,  lead,  or  sulphur  he 
might  discover  on  his  property.  Moreover,  certain 
fees  had  to  be  paid  before  a  purchase  would  be  con- 
sidered complete  —  fees  for  entering  a  claim,  for 
having  a  survey  made,  and  for  the  drawing  up  of  the 
deed  —  amounting  in  all  to  nearly  two  pounds. 
And,  as  Williams  pubhcly  advertised,  every  settler 
was  required  to  pay  these  fees  in  full  before  April  i, 
1776;  otherwise  his  land  would  be  adjudged  open 
to  settlement  by  any  one  making  the  necessary 
payments. 

Nor  was  this  all  that  exasperated  the  people  of 
Transylvania  and  embittered  them  against  the 
Company.  The  discovery  was  made  that  the  Pro- 
prietors had  reserved  for  themselves  and  a  few 
favored  friends  nearly  seventy  thousand  acres  of 
choice  land  at  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio,  where  it  was 
almost  certain  the  most  important  commercial  cen- 
tre of  the  Colony  would  ultimately  be  established.  I 
And  the  settlers  found  another,  though  minor,  \ 
grievance  in  the  opening  of  a  Company's  store  at 
Boonesborough,  with  goods  selling  at  exorbitant 
prices  —  how  exorbitant  may  be  judged  from  the 
fact  that  while  the  Company  paid  ordinary  laborers 
less  than  a  shilling  and  a  half  a  day,  and  hunters 


144     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  road-makers  only  two  shillings,  lead  sold  in 
the  Company's  store  at  nearly  a  shilling,  and  gun- 
powder at  ten  shillings  per  pound.  Anger  and  dis- 
satisfaction spread  rapidly,  and  before  long  a  de- 
termined movement  was  under  way  to  break  the 
power  of  the  Proprietors. 

This  movement  had  its  origin  at  Harrodstown 
and  Boihng  Spring,  both  of  which  places,  it  will  be 
remembered,  had  been  settled  before  the  building  of 
the  Wilderness  Road  and  the  advent  of  Henderson, 
Hart,  and  Luttrell.  Enraged  at  the  thought  that  they 
were  expected  to  pay  tribute  —  in  the  way  of  quit- 
rents  and  land-office  fees  —  to  men  who  had  not 
even  preceded  them  into  Kentucky,  James  Harrod 
and  other  of  the  original  settlers  recalled  with  satis- 
faction the  savagely  denunciatory  proclamations  of 
the  governors  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina.  It 
should  not  be  a  difficult  matter,  they  fancied,  to  pick 
flaws  in  the  Company's  title  to  Transylvania.  They 
looked  up  the  provisions  of  the  Proclamation  of 
1763  and  of  the  Treaty  of  1768,  by  which  the  Six 
Nations  had  relinquished  to  the  British  Crown  their 
pretensions  to  Kentucky.  They  also  scrutinized 
more  closely  than  heretofore  the  compact  between 
the  Proprietors  and  the  people,  and  realized  for  the 
first  time  how  cleverly  Henderson  had  hoodwinked 
the  members  of  the  House  of  Delegates.  In  their 
anxiety,   perplexity,   and  wrath  they  resolved  that, 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  145 

come  what  might,  they  would  disown  the  proprietary 
government  and  agitate  for  the  recognition  of  Tran- 
sylvania as  a  part  of  Virginia. 

An  incident  which  occurred  two  days  before  Christ- 
mas greatly  advanced  their  *^ treasonable"  project 
by  affording  an  object-lesson  in  the  need  the  settlers 
might  have  for  outside  aid  against  the  Indians, 
and  the  advantage  it  would  be  to  them  if  they  were 
in  a  position  to  demand  assistance  from  one  of  the 
older  and  more  powerful  colonies.  The  Indians 
had  observed  their  treaty  obligations  so  faithfully 
that  the  Transylvanians  had  almost  come  to  believe 
that  they  would  be  quite  free  from  molestation.  But 
on  December  23  two  Boonesborough  boys,  McQuin- 
ney  and  Saunders,  were  surprised  by  a  party  of 
Shawnees.  Four  days  afterwards  McQuinney, 
killed  and  scalped,  was  found  in  a  corn-field  three 
miles  north  of  the  Kentucky.  Saunders's  fate  was 
never  learned. 

Naturally  there  was  much  excitement  until  it 
developed  that  the  raiders  were  not  more  than  half 
a  dozen  in  number,  and  that  no  organized  attack  was 
imminent.  But  even  so,  the  affair  drove  home  to  the 
minds  of  the  Transylvanians  a  vivid  appreciation  of 
their  exposed  situation,  and  inclined  them  all  the 
more  towards  the  views  of  the  Harrodstown-Boiling 
Spring  agitators,  who  made  such  progress  that  before 
the  snows  of  winter  had  melted  they  were  able  to  send 


146     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

to  Virginia  a  largely  signed  memorial  voicing  their 
discontent  and  their  aspirations. 

For  a  backwoods  production  this  was  a  remarkable 
document,  devised  with  a  shrewdness  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  Richard  Henderson  himself. 
It  was  addressed  to  the  Virginia  Convention,  as  a 
petition  from  "the  inhabitants  and  some  of  the  in- 
tended settlers  of  that  part  of  North  America  now 
denominated  Transylvania,"  and  without  any  super- 
fluous words  plunged  directly  into  an  attack  on  the 
Company.  "Whereas,"  the  memorialists  declared, 
"some  of  your  petitioners  became  adventurers  in 
that  country  from  the  advantageous  reports  of  their 
friends  who  first  explored  it,  and  others  since  allured 
by  the  specious  shew  of  the  easy  terms  on  which 
the  land  was  to  be  purchased  from  those  who  styled 
themselves  Proprietors,  have,  at  a  great  expense  and 
many  hardships,  settled  there,  under  the  faith  of 
holding  the  lands  by  an  indefeasible  title,  which 
those  gentlemen  assured  them  they  were  capable 
of  making.  But  your  petitioners  have  been  greatly 
alarmed  at  the  late  conduct  of  those  gentlemen,  in 
advancing  the  price  of  the  purchase  money  from 
twenty  shillings  to  fifty  shillings,  per  hundred  acres, 
and  at  the  same  time  have  increased  the  fees  of 
entry  and  surveying  to  a  most  exorbitant  rate;  and, 
by  the  short  period  prefixed  for  taking  up  the  lands, 
even  on  those  extravagant  terms,  they  plainly  evince 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  147 

their  intentions  of  rising  in  their  demands  as  the 
settlers  increase,  or  their  insatiable  avarice  shall 
dictate. 

"And  your  petitioners  have  been  more  justly 
alarmed  at  such  unaccountable  and  arbitrary  pro- 
ceedings as  they  have  lately  learned  from  a  copy  of 
the  deed  made  by  the  Six  Nations  with  Sir  William 
Johnson  and  the  commissioners  from  this  Colony 
[Virginia]  at  Fort  Stanwix  in  the  year  1768,  that  the 
said  lands  were  included  in  the  cession  or  grant  of  all 
that  tract  which  lies  on  the  south  side  of  the  river 
Ohio,  beginning  at  the  mouth  of  Cherokee  or  Hogo- 
hege  River  [the  Tennessee]  and  extending  up  the 
said  river  to  Kettaning  [on  the  Allegheny  River]. 
And,  as  in  the  preamble  of  the  said  deed,  the  said 
confederate  Indians  declare  the  Cherokee  River  to 
be  their  true  boundary  with  the  southard  Indians, 
your  petitioners  may  with  great  reason  doubt  the 
validity  of  the  purchase  that  those  Proprietors  have 
made  of  the  Cherokees  —  the  only  title  they  set  up 
to  the  lands  for  which  they  demand  such  extravagant 
sums  from  your  petitioners,  without  any  other  as- 
surance for  holding  them  than  their  own  deed  and 
warrant;  a  poor  security,  as  your  petitioners  humbly 
apprehend,  for  the  money  that,  among  other  new 
and  unreasonable  regulations,  these  Proprietors  in- 
sist shall  be  paid  down  on  the  delivery  of  the  deed. 

"And,  as  we  have  the  greatest  reason  to  presume 


148     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

that  His  Majesty,  to  whom  the  lands  were  deeded 
by  the  Six  Nations  for  a  valuable  consideration,  will 
vindicate  his  title,  and  think  himself  at  liberty  to 
grant  them  to  such  persons  and  on  such  terms  as  he 
pleases,  your  petitioners  would,  in  consequence  thereof, 
be  turned  out  of  possession  or  obHged  to  purchase 
their  lands  and  improvements  on  such  terms  as  the 
new  grantee  or  proprietor  might  think  fit  to  impose; 
so  that  we  cannot  help  regarding  the  demand  of  Mr. 
Henderson  and  his  Company  as  highly  unjust  and 
impolitic,  in  the  infant  state  of  the  settlement,  as  well 
as  greatly  injurious  to  your  petitioners,  who  would 
cheerfully  have  paid  the  consideration  at  first  stip- 
ulated by  the  Company,  whenever  their  grant  had 
been  confirmed  by  the  Crown,  or  otherwise  authenti- 
cated by  the  supreme  legislature. 

"And,  as  we  are  anxious  to  concur  in  every  respect 
with  our  brethren  of  the  United  Colonies,  for  our  just 
rights  and  privileges,  as  far  as  our  infant  settlement 
and  remote  situation  will  admit  of,  we  humbly  expect 
and  implore  to  be  taken  under  the  protection  of  the 
honorable  Convention  of  the  Colony  of  Virginia,  of 
which  we  cannot  help  thinking  ourselves  still  a  part, 
and  request  your  kind  interposition  in  our  behalf, 
that  we  may  not  suffer  under  the  rigorous  demands 
and  impositions  of  the  gentlemen  styling  themselves 
Proprietors,  who,  the  better  to  effect  their  oppressive 
designs,  have  given  them  the  color  of  a  law,  enacted 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  149 

by  a  score  of  men,  artfully  picked  from  the  few  ad- 
venturers who  went  to  see  the  country  last  summer, 
overawed  by  the  presence  of  Mr.  Henderson. 

"And  that  you  would  take  such  measures  as  your 
honors  in  your  wisdom  shall  judge  most  expedient 
for  restoring  peace  and  harmony  in  our  divided 
settlement;  or,  if  your  honors  apprehend  that  our 
cause  comes  more  properly  before  the  honorable 
the  General  Congress,  that  you  would  in  your  good- 
ness recommend  the  same  to  your  worthy  delegates 
to  espouse  it  as  the  cause  of  the  Colony.  And  your 
petitioners  will  ever,  etc."  ^ 

The  reference  to  the  "  score  of  men  artfully  picked" 
was  hardly  complimentary  to  the  Transylvania  House 
of  Delegates,  nor  was  it  altogether  candid,  seeing 
that  the  foremost  signer  of  the  memorial,  James 
Harrod,  was  himself  a  member  of  the  House  of  Dele- 
gates. But  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  memorialists 
had  good  cause  for  grievance,  and  it  is  no  less  certain 
that  in  putting  their  names  to  their  petition  they 
signed  the  death  warrant  of  Transylvania. 

Henderson,  hearing  that  they  had  appealed  to  the 
Convention,  knew  that  the  long-dreaded  day  of 
battle  had  dawned,  and  hastened  to  submit  a  counter- 
memorial  in  behalf  of  the  Company.  This  was  about 
the  middle  of  June,  1776,  and  even  while  he  was 
writing  it  the  insurgent  Transylvanians  were  taking 

*  From  the  "Journal  of  the  Virginia  Convention," 


150     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

a  decisive  step  to  repudiate  their  allegiance.  Begin- 
ning June  6  an  eight-day  election  was  held  at  Harrods- 
town  for  the  choosing  of  two  delegates  to  the  Virginia 
Convention  from  "West  Fincastle,"  as  Harrod  and 
his  associates  now  designated  Transylvania.  The 
choice  fell  on  George  Rogers  Clark  and  John  Gabriel 
Jones,  who  soon  set  out  for  Williamsburg,  at  that 
time  the  capital  of  the  Old  Dominion,  bearing  with 
them  a  second  petition  in  which  the  Proprietors  were 
attacked  more  bitterly  than  before,  and  the  Con- 
vention was  urged  to  organize  "West  Fincastle" 
as  a  county  of  Virginia. 

Before  Clark  and  Jones  reached  Williamsburg 
the  Convention  had  adjourned  after  having  ap- 
pointed a  commission  to  take  evidence  and  report  on 
the  validity  of  the  Company's  title  to  Transylvania. 
Henderson,  at  bay,  fought  desperately  for  a  favorable 
verdict,  but  all  his  efforts  were  unavailing.  His  last 
chance  for  success  may  be  said  to  have  been  blotted 
out  with  the  adoption,  by  the  Continental  Congress, 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Under  the 
new  order  of  things  there  was  no  room  whatever  for 
a  proprietary  government  on  the  soil  of  America. 
December,  1776,  during  the  first  session  of  the 
recently  created  State  Legislature  of  Virginia,  an 
act  was  passed  organizing  Kentucky  County  out  of 
the  domain  destined  at  no  distant  day  to  blossom 
into  the  State  of  Kentucky,  and  including  within  the 


The  Passing  of  Transylvania  151 

boundaries  of  the  new  county  the  delectable  realm 
which  Henderson  had  bought  from  the  Cherokees. 
With  this  act  Transylvania  became  only  a  memory, 
and  the  ambitious  project  of  the  Transylvania  part- 
ners was  ended  forevermore. 

Virginia,  however,  did  not  condemn  them  to  suffer 
utter  loss.  Nov.  4,  1778,  the  House  of  Delegates 
resolved  that  "as  the  said  Richard  Henderson  and 
Company  have  been  at  very  great  expense  in  making 
the  said  purchase  and  in  settHng  the  said  lands  — 
by  which  this  Commonwealth  is  likely  to  receive  great 
advantages,  by  increasing  its  inhabitants  and  estab- 
lishing a  barrier  against  the  Indians  —  it  is  just 
and  reasonable  to  allow  the  said  Richard  Henderson 
and  Company  a  compensation  for  their  trouble  and 
expense."  Acting  on  this  resolution,  the  Virginia 
General  Assembly  voted  the  Proprietors  a  grant  of 
two  hundred  thousand  acres  of  land  in  Kentucky, 
and  a  similar  grant  was  subsequently  made  to  them 
by  North  Carolina,  whose  limits  embraced  a  portion 
of  the  Cherokee  cession.  Strangely  enough,  while 
not  spurning  these  donations  Henderson  refused 
to  acknowledge  defeat,  and  long  nursed  the  vain 
hope  that  he  would  in  some  way  regain  the  vast 
region  thus  wrested  from  him.  We  shall  once 
more  encounter  him,  somewhat  chastened  by  his 
Transylvania  experiences,  but  still  aggressively  keen 
for  power  and  for  wealth. 


152    Daniel    Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

In  Transylvania  —  or  what  had  been  Transyl- 
vania —  there  were  few  who  felt  any  sympathy  for 
the  luckless  Proprietors.  But  Daniel  Boone  was  one 
of  the  few.  He  saw  in  Henderson  not  a  grasping, 
law-defying  land  speculator,  but  the  good  angel  who 
had  enabled  him  to  make  his  home  in  the  land  of  his 
heart's  desire.  And  however  strongly  he  resented 
and  deplored  the  avaricious  policy  of  Henderson's 
Company,  he  was  not  ingrate  enough  to  forget  the 
generous  gift  its  members  had  made  to  him  in  reward 
for  his  road-building. 

At  the  moment,  however,  not  even  Boone  could 
spare  much  thought  to  the  misfortunes  of  the  Tran- 
sylvania Proprietors.  For  by  the  time  the  Blue  Grass 
settlements  learned  of  Virginia's  decision,  their 
people  were  in  the  midst  of  war's  alarms. 


CHAPTER  X 

WAR-TIME  IN  KENTUCKY 

THE  Struggle  between  the  red  man  and  the  white 
for  possession  of  Kentucky  began  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1776,  with  a  dramatic  prelude.  One 
July  afternoon  three  girls  —  Jemima,  the  second 
daughter  of  Daniel  Boone,  and  Elizabeth  and  Fanny, 
the  daughters  of  Boone's  old  friend  and  fellow-road- 
maker,  Richard  Callaway  —  left  Boonesborough  for 
a  boat-ride  on  the  Kentucky.  It  was  a  warm  day, 
and  the  girls,  whose  ages  ranged  from  fourteen  to 
sixteen,  after  paddling  a  short  distance  from  the  fort, 
allowed  their  canoe  to  drift  idly  with  the  current, 
which  gradually  carried  them  towards  the  opposite 
bank.  They  had  no  thought  of  danger,  for  not  an 
Indian  had  been  seen  near  Boonesborough  since  the 
McQuinney-Saunders  affair  of  the  previous  winter. 
As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  however,  a  party  of  young 
warriors,  refusing  to  abide  longer  by  the  treaty 
forced  upon  them  at  the  conclusion  of  Lord  Dun- 
more's  War,  had  left  the  Shawnee  towns  only  a  few 
days  before,  and  had  crossed  the  Ohio  into  Kentucky, 
with  the  intention  of  dispersing  through  the  settle- 

153 


154     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

ments  and  inflicting  what  damage  they  could.  Five 
of  these  Indians,  bedecked  in  war-plumes  and  hideous 
in  war-paint,  had  approached  Boonesborough  unob- 
served, and  were  in  hiding  near  the  river's  edge  at 
a  point  where  the  current  carried  the  drifting  canoe 
close  to  shore. 

As  it  swept  towards  the  bushes  among  which  they 
lay  concealed,  one  of  them  slipped  noiselessly  into  the 
water,  waded  out,  and,  almost  before  the  terrified 
girls  reahzed  his  purpose,  drew  their  frail  craft  within 
reach  of  his  companions.  Tradition  has  it  that  the 
oldest  girl,  Elizabeth  Callaway,  made  a  brave  re- 
sistance, using  her  paddle  as  a  weapon,  and  with  it 
gashing  an  Indian's  head  to  the  bone.  But  she  was 
quickly  disarmed  and  dragged  up  the  river-bank  to 
where  her  sister  and  Jemima  Boone,  still  shrieking 
with  fear  and  horror,  had  already  been  carried. 

By  gestures  more  expressive  than  any  words  could 
have  been,  the  Indians  bade  them  cease  their  cries 
and  save  their  strength  for  the  long  march  to  the 
Shawnee  towns,  threatening  instant  death  to  them  if 
they  faltered  on  the  way.  The  girls  knew  that  this 
was  no  idle  threat,  for  they  had  often  heard  of  the 
ruthlessness  with  which  Indians  when  returning 
from  a  successful  raid  were  wont  to  slaughter,  with- 
out regard  to  sex  or  age,  any  captive  unable  to  keep 
up  with  the  swift  pace  they  usually  set.  Stifling  their 
sobs,  they  followed  the  Shawnees  without  a  murmur 


War-time  in   Kentucky  155 

through  clover  field  and  prairie  meadow,  cane-brake 
and  maple  grove,  every  step  carrying  them  farther 
from  home. 

But,  with  a  resourcefulness  that  proved  them  true 
daughters  of  pioneer  fathers  and  mothers,  they 
stealthily  endeavored  to  leave  a  well-marked  trail  for 
those  who  they  felt  certain  would  soon  be  speeding 
to  their  rescue.  Wherever  the  ground  was  at  all  soft, 
they  trod  heavily  in  it,  and  at  every  opportunity  they 
secretly  tore  from  their  clothing  little  pieces  of 
cloth  which  they  fastened  to  the  thorny  bushes  of  the 
surrounding  undergrowth. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  they  were  missed 
and  the  cause  of  their  disappearance  made  known  to 
the  people  of  Boonesborough  through  discovery  of 
the  empty  canoe  and  the  marks  of  the  struggle  on  the 
river-bank.  Two  parties  of  settlers  at  once  started 
in  hot  pursuit.  One,  consisting  of  a  dozen  or  more 
mounted  men  under  Richard  Callaway,  headed 
direct  to  the  Licking  River,  hoping  to  intercept  the 
Shawnees  at  the  ford  of  the  lower  Blue  Lick.  The 
other  party,  smaller  and  on  foot,  followed  their  trail 
from  the  Kentucky.  It  was  led  by  Boone  and  John 
Floyd,  who  had  left  St.  Asaph  and  was  then  living 
at  Boonesborough,  and  it  included  five  other  men, 
three  of  whom  —  Richard  Henderson's  brother 
Samuel,  Richard  Callaway's  son  Flanders,  and  John 
Holder  —  were    in    love    with    the    captured    girls. 


156     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Darkness  overtook  them  before  they  had  gone  more 
than  five  miles,  but  at  dawn  the  pursuit  was  renewed. 
That  day  they  covered  thirty  miles,  noting  with  sat- 
isfaction the  torn  fragments  of  cloth,  which  told  them 
that  the  girls  were  keeping-  up  their  strength  and 
courage. 

Early  next  morning,  after  travelling  two  miles  more, 
which  brought  them  within  two  or  three  miles  of  the 
upper  Blue  Lick,  Boone  and  his  companions  noticed 
a  thin  line  of  smoke  curling  upwards  through  the  air. 
Advancing  cautiously,  so  that  the  Indians  should  not 
be  aware  of  their  presence  in  time  to  tomahawk  the 
helpless  captives,  they  soon  came  upon  the  Shawnees 
grouped  about  a  fire  at  which  they  were  cooking 
buffalo  meat  for  breakfast.  A  little  distance  off  sat 
EHzabeth  Callaway,  with  her  sister  and  Jemima 
Boone  on  the  ground  beside  her,  their  heads  resting 
in  her  lap. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Indians  imagined  they  had 
thrown  off  all  pursuit,  and  no  less  evident  that  the 
younger  girls  were  thoroughly  exhausted  and  could 
not  possibly  travel  much  farther.  At  a  signal  from 
Boone  the  pursuers  closed  in  upon  the  encampment. 
But  let  one  of  them  —  John  Floyd  —  tell  the  story 
of  the  rescue  in  his  own  words,  as  he  afterwards 
described  it  in  a  letter  to  his  friend.  Colonel  WilHam 
Preston  of  Virginia. 

"We   discovered   each   other  nearly  at  the  same 


War-time  in  Kentucky  157 

time,"  Floyd  wrote  to  Preston,  "four  of  us  fired, 
and  all  rushed  on  them,  which  prevented  them  from 
carrying  away  anything  except  one  shot-gun  without 
ammunition.  Mr.  Boone  and  myself  had  a  pretty 
fair  shot  just  as  they  began  to  move  off.  I  am  well 
convinced  I  shot  one  through,  and  the  one  he  shot 
dropped  his  gun;  mine  had  none.  The  place  was 
very  thick  with  canes,  and  being  so  much  elated  on 
recovering  the  three  broken-hearted  little  girls, 
prevented  our  making  further  search.  We  sent  them 
off  without  their  moccasins,  and  not  one  of  them 
with  so  much  as  a  knife  or  tomahawk."  ^ 

Whatever  idea  the  settlers  may  have  had  that  this 
was  a  solitary  outrage  similar  to  the  December  inci- 
dent, was  dispelled  shortly  after  the  rescuers  returned 
to  Boonesborough.  Besides  the  original  four  settle- 
ments of  Transylvania,  the  country  to  the  north  as 
well  as  to  the  south  of  the  Kentucky  had  by  this  time 
become  dotted  with  stations  and  single  cabins  put  up 

^  Samuel  Henderson  married  his  sweetheart,  the  plucky  Eliza- 
beth Callaway,  three  weeks  later,  this  being  the  first  marriage  in 
Kentucky.  Some  interesting  details  have  been  preserved.  The 
ceremony  took  place  in  a  Boonesborough  cabin,  Daniel  Boone 
officiating  by  virtue  of  having  been  commissioned  a  justice  of  the 
peace.  There  was  dancing  to  fiddle  music  by  the  light  of  buffalo 
tallow  candles,  and  the  guests  were  treated  to  the  first  watermelons 
grown  at  Boonesborough.  At  a  later  date  Flanders  Callaway  be- 
came the  husband  of  Jemima  Boone,  and  John  Holder,  who  devel- 
oped into  a  redoubtable  Indian  fighter,  married  Fanny  Callaway. 


158     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

by  "improvers"  from  the  frontiers  of  Pennsylvania, 
Maryland,  Virginia,  and  North  Carolina.  Mc- 
Clelland's  Station  on  the  Elkhorn,  Hinkson's  Station 
on  the  Licking,  and  Huston's  Station  on  the  site  of 
the  present-day  Paris  were  the  most  important  set- 
tlements between  the  Kentucky  and  the  Ohio. 

South  of  the  Kentucky  the  greatest  activity  was 
in  the  country  about  Harrodstown  and  Boiling 
Spring,  and  along  Logan's  Branch  of  the  Wilderness 
Road.  The  Transylvanians  themselves  had  spread 
out  for  many  miles,  some,  like  the  McAfees,  uniting 
to  lay  the  foundations  of  new  settlements,  and  others, 
among  whom  was  Michael  Stoner,  the  companion  of 
Boone's  memorable  ride  to  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio, 
removing  in  little  groups  of  three  or  four  to  spy  out 
the  land  and  build  homes  in  particularly  desirable 
locations. 

Now,  in  July  of  1776,  fugitives  came  flying  from 
every  quarter  to  the  larger  settlements,  bringing 
with  them  dismal  tidings  of  Indian  depredations. 
Men  had  been  murdered,  horses  and  cattle  stolen, 
buildings  burned.  On  the  very  day  that  Boone  and 
Floyd  arrived  with  the  rescued  girls,  a  party  of  fugi- 
tives from  Hinkson's  Station  galloped  into  Boones- 
borough,  stayed  overnight,  and  in  the  morning 
started  for  Virginia  by  way  of  the  Wilderness  Road, 
taking  with  them  ten  of  the  inhabitants  of  Boones- 
borough,  whom  they  had  infected  with  their  panic. 


War-time  in  Kentucky  159 

They  were  soon  followed  by  others,  despite  the  en- 
treaties of  Boone,  Callaway,  Harrod,  Logan,  and 
kindred  fearless  souls,  who  refused  to  flee,  and 
labored  day  and  night  to  strengthen  their  defences. 

To  add  to  the  general  alarm,  word  was  received 
that  the  Cherokees  had  attacked  the  Watauga  settle- 
ments and  purposed,  if  successful,  moving  northward 
into  Kentucky.  This  was  the  signal  for  a  fresh  panic 
and  a  still  greater  exodus  across  the  mountains.  But 
not  all  could  go,  and  not  all  wished  to  go,  and  many 
of  those  who  did  wish  themselves  well  out  of  Kentucky 
felt  that  duty  constrained  them  to  remain. 

"I  want  to  return  as  much  as  any  man  can  do,'* 
Floyd  candidly  confessed  to  his  friend  Preston,  "but 
if  I  leave  the  country  now,  there  is  scarcely  one  single 
man  who  will  not  follow  the  example.  When  I  think 
of  the  deplorable  condition  a  few  helpless  families 
are  likely  to  be  in,  I  conclude  to  sell  my  life  as  dearly 
as  I  can  in  their  defence  rather  than  make  an  igno- 
minious escape."  In  the  sad  years  that  followed 
many  a  man  and  woman  had  occasion  to  bless  John 
Floyd  for  this  noble  resolution.^ 

^  Floyd,  however,  was  not  in  Kentucky  throughout  its  seven 
years  of  almost  perpetual  warfare.  He  had  been  appointed  offi- 
cial surveyor  for  the  Transylvania  Company,  and  in  the  autumn  of 
1776  Henderson  summoned  him  to  Williamsburg,  where  he  re- 
mained until  the  Virginia  Legislature  passed  the  act  absorbing 
Transylvania.     He  then  fitted  out  a  privateer  to  destroy  British 


i6o     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Had  the  Shawnees  taken  advantage  of  the  demora- 
lized condition  into  which  the  Kentuckians  were 
thrown  by  their  unexpected  appearance,  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  that  they  could  have  wiped 
out  the  settlements,  and  put  a  stop  to  westward  ex- 
pansion until  after  the  War  for  Independence,  besides 
clearing  the  way  for  the  British,  with  whom  they 
later  became  allied,  to  deliver  deadly  rear  attacks 
against  the  insurgent  colonists.  But  instead  of 
concentrating  their  efforts  in  successive  assaults  upon 
the  stations  where  those  who  remained  had  taken 
refuge,  —  Boonesborough,  Harrodstown,  and  Mc- 
Clelland's,  —  they  contented  themselves  throughout 
the  summer  and  autumn  in  roaming  about  the  coun- 
try, destroying  the  deserted  settlements  and  cabins, 
and  slaying  all  who  happened  to  fall  into  their  hands. 
This  gave  the  pioneers  a  breathing  space,  enabled 
them  to  mature  plans  for  defence,  lay  in  supplies,  and 

shipping,  and  did  considerable  damage  before  being  made  a  pris- 
oner of  war.  Escaping  after  a  year's  imprisonment,  he  was  smug- 
gled across  the  English  Channel  to  France,  where,  it  is  said,  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  supplied  him  with  means  to  reach  Virginia.  Once 
in  America  again,  he  hurried  back  to  Kentucky,  did  splendid  ser- 
vice under  George  Rogers  Clark,  and  by  his  daring  became  known 
throughout  the  West.  In  April,  1783,  while  riding  with  his  brother 
Charles,  he  was  shot  from  ambush  by  an  Indian  and  died  a  few 
hours  afterwards,  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-three.  He  was  a  splen- 
did specimen  of  the  American  pioneer,  and  should  find  a  place  in 
any  gallery  of  portraits  of  heroes  of  the  early  West. 


War-time  in  Kentucky  l6i 

despatch  messengers  to  Williamsburg,  imploring  aid 
from  Virginia. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  George  Rogers 
Clark  in  Williamsburg  it  seems  altogether  likely 
that  these  messengers  would  have  found  their  journey 
fruitless,  for  the  Virginians  were  so  preoccupied 
with  the  urgent  problems  raised  by  the  War  for  Inde- 
pendence that  they  at  first  paid  scant  attention  to  the 
frantic  appeals  of  the  men  from  the  West.  But 
when  Clark  heard  of  the  danger  threatening  his 
fellow-Transylvanians,  the  situation  rapidly  changed. 

Clark,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  elected  a 
delegate  with  John  Gabriel  Jones  to  state  the  case  of 
the  Transylvanians  against  Richard  Henderson  and 
Company.  Imperious,  impetuous,  and  forceful,  he 
had  all  along  taken  the  position  that  Transylvania 
should  approach  Virginia  in  an  independent,  not  a 
suppliant,  spirit,  and  when  he  discovered  that  the 
authorities  were  disposed  to  let  the  Westerners  shift 
for  themselves,  he  adopted  a  tone  of  haughty  defi- 
ance. If  Transylvania,  he  said  in  effect,  were  not 
worth  saving,  it  was  not  worth  claiming,  and  if  it  were 
compelled  to  save  itself,  it  assuredly  would  not  ac- 
knowledge Virginia's  sovereignty. 

The  threat  had  the  desired  result.  Late  in  the 
summer  an  initial  supply  of  powder  and  lead  was 
sent  to  Boone,  —  thus  tacitly  recognized  as  com- 
mander-in-chief of   the    defending   forces,  —  and    a 


i62     Daniel   Boone   and  the  Wilderness  Road 

further  grant  of  five  hundred  pounds  of  powder  was 
afterwards  made,  which  Clark  and  Jones  undertook 
to  carry  by  flatboat  down  the  Ohio. 

Accompanied  only  by  seven  daredevil  borderers, 
who  readily  engaged  to  serve  as  boatmen,  notwith- 
standing that  the  Indians  were  known  to  be  keeping 
a  close  watch  on  the  river,  they  set  out  from  Pitts- 
burg and  after  many  adventures  landed  their  precious 
cargo  on  an  island  not  far  from  the  site  of  the  modern 
Maysville,  hiding  it  in  the  woods  until  they  could  get 
help  in  carrying  it  to  the  settlements. 

On  every  side,  as  they  struck  cautiously  across 
country,  they  found  evidences  of  the  blight  that  had 
fallen  on  Kentucky,  and  they  frequently  had  proof 
—  in  the  way  of  smouldering  camp-fires  and  fresh 
trails  —  that  war-parties  were  even  then  hovering 
about.  But  by  dint  of  the  woodcraft  in  which  most 
of  them  were  masters,  they  avoided  detection  and 
reached  McClelland's  Station,  the  only  occupied 
settlement  north  of  the  Kentucky  River.  Here,  per- 
haps for  the  first  time,  Clark  met  a  man  scarcely 
less  famous  than  Daniel  Boone  in  the  camp-fire  talk 
of  the  border. 

This  was  Simon  Kenton,  only  twenty-one  years  old, 
but  already  renowned  as  guide,  scout,  and  Indian 
fighter  —  a  fair-haired  giant  of  six  feet,  with  nerves 
of  steel  and  the  sunniest  of  dispositions.  Like  so 
many  of  the  makers  of  the  early  West,  Kenton  was 


Simon  Kenton 

From  painting  by  Lewis  Morgan,  owned  by  Colonel  Reuben  T.  Durrett 


War-time  in  Kentucky  163 

Virginia  born,  and  of  the  restless,  aggressive  Scotch- 
Irish  stock.  He  had  fled  from  his  native  settlement 
when  a  lad  of  sixteen,  in  consequence  of  a  hand-to- 
hand  frontier  duel  in  which  he  left  for  dead  his  suc- 
cessful rival  in  a  youthful  love  affair. 

From  that  time  forward  he  had  been  an  adventur- 
ous, danger-defying  wanderer  in  the  wilds  of  western 
Pennsylvania  and  Virginia,  penetrating  as  far  as  the 
mouth  of  the  Kentucky.  During  Lord  Dunmore's 
War  he  acted  as  a  spy  for  both  Lord  Dunmore  and 
Andrew  Lewis,  the  conqueror  of  Point  Pleasant,  and 
earned  the  venomous  hatred  of  the  Indians  for  the 
skill  with  which  he  gained  information  of  their 
movements  and  intentions.  After  the  war  he  defi- 
nitely removed  to  Kentucky,  clearing  land  and  build- 
ing a  cabin  near  Maysville  at  about  the  time  the 
foundations  of  Boonesborough  were  being  laid  in  the 
Blue  Grass  country  farther  south.  He  is  credited 
with  having  raised  the  first  crop  of  corn  planted  and 
harvested  by  white  men  in  northern  Kentucky. 

The  winter  of  1775-76  he  passed  at  Hinkson's 
Station  on  the  Licking,  and  when  that  settlement  was 
abandoned,  owing  to  the  outbreakof  Indian  hostilities, 
he  removed  to  McClelland's.  As  in  Lord  Dunmore's 
War  he  was  now  employed  to  spy  on  the  Indians, 
and  many  pioneers  owed  their  Hves  to  the  vigilance 
with  which  he  tracked  marauding  parties  of  red  men 
and  brought  timely  warning  of  their  approach. 


164     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Besides  Kenton,  Clark  found  at  McClelland's 
only  half  a  dozen  fighting  men,  or  too  few  to  provide 
a  sufficiently  strong  escort  for  the  ammunition.  It 
was  arranged  that  Kenton  should  pilot  him  to  Har- 
rodstown  for  reenforcements,  while  Jones  and  the 
boatmen  remained  at  McClelland's,  pending  their 
return.  Had  this  programme  been  followed  all 
would  have  been  well.  As  it  was,  the  departure  of 
Clark  and  Kenton  was  the  signal  for  a  display  of 
rashness  that  led  to  the  first  pitched  battle  and  the 
first  serious  reverse  of  the  Indian  wars  in  Kentucky. 

Possibly  because  he  wished  to  enhance  his  repu- 
tation for  courage,  possibly  because  he  underesti- 
mated the  fighting  qualities  of  the  foe,  Jones  per- 
suaded the  boatmen  and  some  of  the  people  of 
McClelland's  to  join  him  in  an  immediate  attempt 
to  bring  in  the  hidden  powder.  As  was  too  often  the 
case  at  that  time,  no  precautions  were  taken  to  guard 
against  a  surprise;  no  scouts  were  sent  ahead,  no 
watch  kept  for  unusual  sights  and  sounds  that  might 
indicate  the  presence  of  an  enemy.  Yet  from  the 
moment  Jones  and  his  escort  left  the  protecting  pali- 
sades of  the  settlement  their  every  step  was  dogged, 
and  when  they  halted  for  the  noonday  meal,  the 
lurking  foe  silently  stole  ahead  to  lie  in  ambush  for 
them. 

Jones  was  the  first  to  perish,  falling  dead  with  a 
bullet  in  his  heart;    a  second  man  was  killed,    and 


War-time  in  Kentucky  165 

two  others  were  taken  prisoners  to  undergo  the  lin- 
gering tortures  of  death  at  the  stake.  The  rest, 
cutting  their  way  through  the  Hving  wall  that  sought 
to  bar  them  from  safety,  fled  back  to  McClelland's, 
whence  a  messenger  was  soon  speeding  to  Harrods- 
town,  carrying  the  tale  of  folly  and  disaster  and  an 
urgent  appeal  for  help. 

In  response,  Clark,  Kenton,  and  a  number  of 
volunteers  hastened  to  the  station  on  the  Elkhorn, 
drove  off^  the  Indians  after  a  fight  in  which  several 
whites  were  killed,  and  in  the  opening  days  of  the  new 
year  secured  the  powder  which  had  been  the  cause  of 
so  much  bloodshed,  and  distributed  it  among  the  de- 
fenders of  Boonesborough  and  Harrodstown,  McClel- 
land's Station  being  abandoned  because  of  its  remote 
location  from  the  Transylvania  settlements. 

Now  the  war  entered  into  a  new  phase,  and  one  of 
far  more  serious  import  to  the  brave  men  and  women 
who  were  so  desperately  striving  to  maintain  their 
foothold  in  Kentucky.  Beginning  with  the  early 
spring  of  1777,  not  only  the  Shawnees,  but  many  other 
tribes  abandoned  all  pretence  of  neutrality  in  the  con- 
flict between  the  colonists  and  the  mother  country, 
and  openly  sided  with  the  latter,  being  spurred  to 
bloody  aggression  by  the  rich  presents  and  glowing 
promises  of  Henry  Hamilton,  the  British  lieutenant- 
governor  of  the  Northwestern  region,  whose  head- 
quarters were  at  Detroit. 


l66     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

It  no  longer  was  safe  for  even  fairly  strong  parties 
of  settlers  to  move  about  Kentucky,  and  all  travel  in 
and  out  of  the  country,  whether  along  the  Wilderness 
Road  or  by  the  Ohio  River,  came  practically  to  an 
end.  In  the  single  year  1777  Harrodstown  was 
besieged  three  times  and  Boonesborough  twice,  and 
when  free  from  open  attack,  both  places  were  so 
closely  invested  that,  in  the  daytime  at  all  events,  it 
was  next  to  impossible  for  the  settlers  to  enter  or 
leave  the  stockades.  Thus  besides  severing  the 
slender  threads  of  communication  which  united  the 
Kentucky  settlements  with  the  settlements  of  the 
East,  hundreds  of  miles  away,  the  Indians  frequently 
succeeded  in  isolating  Boonesborough  and  Harrods- 
town from  each  other,  although  they  were  less  than 
fifty  miles  apart. 

So  serious  did  the  situation  become,  owing  to  a 
shortage  in  the  food  supply,  that  hunters  Hke  Kenton 
and  Boone  were  obliged  to  creep  out  after  night-fall, 
travel  long  distances  before  venturing  to  seek  game, 
and  await  the  return  of  darkness  in  order  to  be  able 
to  smuggle  in  the  food  thus  stealthily  won.  It  was  in 
very  truth  a  starvation-time  in  Kentucky.  Yet  when 
the  opportunity  offered,  as  it  did  more  than  once, 
for  the  settlers  to  take  their  wives  and  children  and 
follow  those  who  had  fled  to  safety  the  previous  year, 
they  stubbornly  refused  to  leave. 

"Brother,"    a    chieftain    had    prophetically    told 


War-time  in  Kentucky  167 

Boone,  at  the  signing  of  the  Sycamore  Shoals  Treaty, 
*'it  is  a  fine  land  we  sell  to  you,  but  I  fear  you  will 
find  it  hard  to  hold/'  They  were  finding  it  hard  to 
hold,  but  they  had  resolved  to  hold  it  at  any  cost. 

Heroes  and  heroines  all  of  them,  this  first  year  of 
systematic  warfare  was  marked  by  many  romantic 
episodes  bringing  out  in  clear  rehef  the  innate  great- 
ness of  the  men  and  women  who  faced  the  tawny 
alhes  of  the  British  in  the  border  battles  of  the  Revo- 
lution. As  striking  an  instance  as  any  occurred  dur- 
ing a  siege  of  St.  Asaph,  which  had  been  reoccupied 
in  February  by  the  courageous  Benjamin  Logan  and 
was  now  better  known  as  Logan's  Fort  than  by  the 
name  it  had  borne  when  Transylvania  was  in  its 
prime. 

One  morning,  about  the  middle  of  May,  the  women 
of  the  station  were  milking  outside  the  stockade,  pro- 
tected by  a  small  detachment  from  the  garrison, 
which  did  not  number  more  than  fifteen  men  all  told. 
During  the  night  a  force  of  Shawnees  had  concealed 
themselves  in  a  near-by  cane-brake,  and  at  the  first 
favorable  moment  they  fired  upon  the  guard.  One 
man  was  killed  outright  and  two  were  wounded,  one 
of  whom  succeeded  in  escaping  to  the  stockade, 
where  the  women  had  instantly  taken  refuge,  while 
the  other.  Burr  Harrison,  after  running  a  few  yards, 
fell  to  the  ground  completely  disabled.  From  a 
cabin  port-hole  his  wife  beheld  him  lying  helpless, 


i68     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  in  a  frenzy  of  grief  begged  that  he  be  rescued 
before  the  Indians  should  rush  up  and  despatch  him. 

For  a  moment  no  one  answered  her  appeal.  The 
Shawnees'  first  volley  had  reduced  the  effective  force 
in  the  fort  to  twelve  men,  and  it  seemed  madness  to 
expose  the  survivors  to  further  loss.  But  as  she  con- 
tinued to  lament  and  wring  her  hands,  Logan, 
always  chivalrous  and  devoid  of  fear,  called  for  volun- 
teers to  aid  him  in  an  attempt  to  carry  in  the  wounded 
man.  One  stepped  forward,  John  Martin,  and  to- 
gether they  threw  open  the  stockade  gate  and  leaped 
towards  the  groaning  Harrison. 

Their  appearance  was  the  signal  for  a  second  volley 
from  the  Indians,  who  were  still  under  cover.  Ap- 
palled by  the  leaden  hail,  Martin  turned  and  sprang 
back  within  the  fort;  but  Logan,  undaunted,  dashed 
on  alone,  passed  safely  through  the  storm  of  bullets, 
lifted  Harrison  from  the  ground,  threw  him  across  his 
burly  shoulders,  and,  scarcely  slackening  his  speed 
beneath  the  heavy  burden,  beat  a  triumphant  retreat 
to  the  stockade. 

Nor  was  this  all.  Unable  to  carry  the  fort  by 
storm,  or  to  "smoke  out"  its  inmates  by  setting  fire 
to  it,  the  Indians  settled  down  to  a  patient  siege. 
Before  long  the  defenders  found  themselves  short  of 
ammunition,  with  apparently  no  means  of  replen- 
ishing their  supply,  as  both  Harrodstown  and  Boones- 
borough  were  too  hard  pressed  to  spare  either  powder 


War-time  in  Kentucky  169 

or  lead.  Again  Logan  rose  to  the  occasion.  Sad- 
dling the  best  horse  he  possessed,  he  sHpped  undis- 
covered through  the  enemy's  Hues,  and  made  for  the 
distant  settlements  of  the  Watauga  country. 

It  was  impossible  to  travel  by  v^ay  of  the  Wilder- 
ness Road,  so  closely  v^ere  the  Indians  guarding  it; 
and  the  alternative  v^as  a  hazardous  journey  through 
a  netv^ork  of  Indian  trails  and  buffalo  traces,  in 
v^hich  even  the  best-trained  v^oodsman  might  lose 
his  v^ay  and  perish.  But  Logan  did  not  pause  to 
contemplate  the  difficulties  he  v^ould  have  to  over- 
come. Riding  each  day  from  dawn  until  dark, 
fording  streams,  guiding  his  horse  up  and  down 
rocky  heights,  crashing  recklessly  through  brush- 
wood and  cane-brake,  he  reached  the  hamlets  on  the 
Holston  within  a  week,  and  within  another  week  was 
back  at  his  fort,  bearing  the  glad  assurance  that  an 
ammunition  caravan  was  on  the  road  and  that  a 
hundred  militiamen  from  the  Virginia  frontier  were 
hastening  to  the  relief  of  the  beleaguered  Kentucky 
stations. 

Simon  Kenton  was  another  who  proved  his  sterling 
worth  in  that  grim  year  1777.  Making  his  head- 
quarters at  Boonesborough  he  spent  most  of  his  time 
in  the  open,  flitting  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  from  one 
Indian  camp  to  another,  eavesdropping  near  the 
council-fire,  and  keeping  the  settlers  thoroughly 
informed   of  the   enemy's   plans.     Once,   when   for 


170     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

some  reason  he  had  been  detained  at  Boonesborough, 
the  Indians  contrived  to  approach  and  attack  it  be- 
fore the  defenders  suspected  their  presence;  but,  as 
things  turned  out,  this  gave  Kenton  an  opportunity 
of  performing  what  was  perhaps  the  most  brilliant 
deed  of  his  entire  career. 

There  were  only  twenty-two  riflemen  in  Boones- 
borough at  the  time,  while  the  attacking  force  com- 
prised from  fifty  to  one  hundred  warriors.  But,  as 
was  their  custom,  the  Indians  preferred  to  rely  on 
strategy  rather  than  on  open  assault,  and  most  of 
them  remained  hidden  in  the  weeds  and  long  grass 
near  the  stockade,  leaving  a  mere  handful  to  act  as  a 
decoy  in  enticing  the  settlers  to  give  chase  to  them. 
The  trick  was  successful.  Boone,  Kenton,  and  a 
majority  of  the  garrison  rushed  out  in  hot  pursuit, 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  some  little  distance  from 
the  fort  the  Indians  in  hiding  rose  to  cut  off  their 
retreat. 

Realizing  the  nature  of  the  trap  into  which  they 
had  fallen,  Boone  shouted  to  his  men  to  wheel  about 
and  make  a  dash  for  the  gate,  firing  as  they  ran.  A 
minute  more,  and  they  were  in  deadly  hand-to-hand 
conflict.  Isaac  Hite,  John  Todd,  Michael  Stoner, 
and  other  notables  of  the  early  Transylvania  days 
fell,  more  or  less  seriously  wounded;  and  with  them 
fell  Boone,  his  leg  broken  by  a  bullet. 

Whooping  in  triumph  at  the  thought  that  the  noted 


War-time  In  Kentucky  171 

"Captain  Boone"  was  In  his  power,  a  tall,  sinewy 
brave  sprang  at  him  with  upHfted  tomahawk.  Ken- 
ton, who  had  been  fighting  vaKantly,  and  had  already 
killed  two  Indians,  chanced  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
Impending  tragedy  —  saw  Boone  half-prostrate  on 
the  ground,  his  arm  raised  above  his  head  to  ward  off 
the  death-stroke.  With  Hghtnlng-like  rapidity  Ken- 
ton turned,  raised  his  rifle,  pressed  It  against  the  war- 
rior's breast,  and  discharged  It.  Then,  stooping,  he 
lifted  Boone  and  bore  him  swiftly  to  the  fort;  after- 
wards returning  to  plunge  Into  the  fight  once  more. 

When  the  battle  was  over,  and  the  Indians  had 
been  driven  oflF,  Boone  sent  for  Kenton  and  knighted 
him  In  backwoods  fashion.  "Well,  Simon,"  said 
he,  "you  have  behaved  like  a  man  — you  are  a  fine 
fellow."  Few  words  and  simple  words,  but  coming 
from  such  a  source  they  amounted  to  a  certificate  of 
merit  which  would  forever  establish  Kenton's  reputa- 
tion. 

For  Boone's  preeminence  In  the  defence  of  Ken- 
tucky was  by  this  time  universally  recognized.  His 
readiness  to  encounter  danger,  his  resourcefulness  In 
surmounting  the  greatest  obstacles,  —  he  even  learned 
the  art  of  making  gunpowder,  — •  and  his  constant 
cheerfulness  endeared  him  to  all  and  made  him  the 
Inspiration  of  all.  In  the  words  of  one  well  ac- 
quainted with  his  career,  he  was  looked  upon  as  an 
oracle,  whose  every  utterance  was  to  be  obeyed. 


172     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

It  would  be  quite  incorrect,  though,  to  describe 
Boone  as  a  great  military  genius.  He  was  not  that. 
His  distinction  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  was  supremely 
equipped  to  conduct  operations  in  the  kind  of  war- 
fare in  which  the  Kentuckians  were  then  engaged. 
He  knew  the  red  man  and  the  red  man's  ways,  and 
besides  being  a  splendid  fighter  he  was  the  peer  of 
the  most  wily  chieftain  in  cunning  and  dissimulation. 
Other  things  being  equal,  he  could  be  depended  on 
to  beat  the  Indian  at  his  own  game  as  could  no  other 
borderer  of  his  generation,  with  the  possible  excep- 
tion of  Simon  Kenton. 

But  he  was  deficient  in  one  quality  without  which 
no  commander  may  hope  to  excel  —  the  penetrating 
vision,  almost  equivalent  to  prescience,  that  impels 
to  drastic,  far-reaching  action  in  a  time  of  crisis. 
Superb  in  defensive  fighting,  he  was  less  conspicuous 
when  the  occasion  demanded  a  vigorous  offence. 
For  this  reason  he  was  eventually  overshadowed,  from 
the  military  point  of  view,  by  the  man  who  had 
dragooned  the  authorities  of  Virginia  into  lending 
the  Kentuckians  a  helping  hand  —  George  Rogers 
Clark. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    CAMPAIGNING    OF    GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK 

WHILE  Boone  was  battling  with  bull-dog 
tenacity  at  the  settlement  that  bore  his  name, 
Clark  was  at  Harrodstown,  rendering  mag- 
nificent assistance  in  the  defence  of  that  station  and 
carefully  maturing  a  plan  whereby  he  hoped  to  put  an 
end  for  all  time  to  the  Indian  invasions. 

As  yet  it  was  not  generally  known  that  the  continual 
struggle  with  the  Indians  had  its  origin  in  anything 
other  than  the  natural  wrath  of  the  savages  at  the 
loss  of  their  favorite  hunting-grounds.  But  Clark, 
a  man  of  the  broadest  imagination  and  the  keenest 
insight,  intuitively  understood  that  the  true  source 
of  hostilities  was  to  be  found  in  the  adverse  influence 
radiating  from  the  Northwestern  forts  and  trading- 
stations  which  had  been  estabhshed  by  the  French  as 
part  of  their  scheme  for  New  World  empire,  and 
now  were  British  possessions. 

He  rightly  suspected  that  all  of  them  —  and  es- 
pecially Detroit  in  western  Canada,  and  Kaskaskia 
and  Vincennes  in  the  lUinois  country  —  were  hot- 

173 


174     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

beds  in  which  the  seeds  of  Indian  hatred  for  the 
American  borderers  were  assiduously  cultivated. 
Could  these  posts  but  be  wrested  from  the  British, 
the  problem  of  persuading  or  compelling  the  Indians 
to  maintain  peace  would  be  greatly  simplified,  for 
they  would  be  deprived  of  the  moral  and  material 
support  of  their  white  allies. 

Moreover,  as  Clark  saw  it,  the  conquest  of  the 
country  north  of  the  Ohio  was  absolutely  essential  to 
the  saving  of  Kentucky.  Thus  far  the  Kentuckians 
had  held  their  ground,  with  practically  no  outside 
assistance;  nor  could  they  reasonably  expect  much 
aid,  so  great  were  the  demands  made  upon  the  East- 
ern settlements  by  the  exigencies  of  the  protracted 
War  for  Independence.  Yet  without  aid,  or  without 
a  respite  from  the  grinding  pressure  of  the  Indian 
onslaughts,  the  pioneers  would  in  time  be  worn  out, 
and  would  have  to  surrender  or  retreat.  This  would 
mean  the  complete  abandonment  of  Kentucky,  and 
its  abandonment  would  mean  the  exposure  of  the 
entire  Virginia  frontier  to  the  tomahawk,  the  scalp- 
ing-knife,  and  the  torch. 

In  this  fact  Clark  saw  his  only  chance  for  putting 
into  execution  an  ambitious  project  that  gradually 
took  shape  in  his  mind  during  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1777.  He  would  again  visit  Williamsburg,  would 
depict  to  the  men  at  the  head  of  affairs  the  horrors 
certain  to  overwhelm  border  Virginia  unless  British 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     175 

activity  among  the  Indians  were  checked,  and  would 
himself  undertake  to  check  it  by  the  conquest  of  the 
Northwestern  posts  —  which,  as  he  would  make  it  a 
point  to  remind  the  authorities,  were  situated  in  a 
region  long  claimed  by  Virginia  under  the  terms  of 
her  all-embracing  charter,  and  which  would  thus 
become  doubly  Virginia's  by  right  of  charter  and  by 
right  of  conquest.  All  that  he  should  require  would 
be  official  authorization  for  the  organizing  of  an  ex- 
pedition, and  money  to  finance  it.  Everything  else, 
from  the  recruiting  to  the  fighting,  he  would  engage 
to  carry  through  without  Virginia's  aid. 

He  would  march  first  of  all  against  Kaskaskia,  as 
being  most  conveniently  located  for  attack  from 
Kentucky;  when  Kaskaskia  had  fallen,  he  would 
assail  the  more  northerly  Cahokia  and  Vincennes 
and  afterwards,  as  circumstances  permitted,  faraway 
Detroit.  It  might  be  objected  that  the  way  to  Kas- 
kaskia, Cahokia,  and  Vincennes  lay  through  trackless 
forests  and  tangled  prairies,  by  quagmires  and  over 
rushing  streams  —  a  country,  in  fine,  of  the  most 
difficult  travel,  and  teeming  with  bitterly  hostile 
tribesmen.  Clark  would  airily  wave  his  hand,  and 
assure  the  sceptical  Virginians  that  all  this  was  of 
small  importance  —  the  men  of  his  army  would  be 
men  whom  nothing  could  daunt  and  nothing  defeat. 

It  was  a  dream  such  as  could  be  conceived  only  by 
a  rash,   reckless  adventurer,  or  by  a  man  of  true 


176     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

genius,  certain  of  his  ability  to  command  success. 
Clark  was  no  mere  adventurer.  When  his  vision  of 
conquest  first  began  to  assume  definite  form,  he 
calmly  set  about  ascertaining  its  feasibility.  He  took 
no  one  into  his  confidence,  —  excepting  possibly 
Simon  Kenton  and  James  Harrod,  with  both  of 
whom  he  was  on  the  most  intimate  terms,  —  but  sent 
for  two  young  frontiersmen  and  employed  them  to 
visit  the  lUinois  country  in  the  guise  of  hunters  and 
traders,  examine  its  resources  and  defences,  and  in 
particular  discover  the  sentiments  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Kaskaskia,  Cahokia,  and  Vincennes  with  respect 
to  the  contest  between  Great  Britain  and  the  Ameri- 
can colonies.  Most  of  the  people  of  these  three  set- 
tlements were  French  or  of  French  descent,  and  it 
was  Clark's  hope  that  they  would  at  most  prove 
lukewarm  in  their  British  allegiance,  and  would 
offer  no  very  serious  opposition  if  an  American  force 
were  sent  against  them. 

The  report  brought  back  by  his  spies  confirmed 
this  idea.  The  commandants  and  garrisons  of  the 
Illinois  posts,  they  informed  him,  were  loyal  to  the 
British  interest,  and  took  every  opportunity  of  incit- 
ing the  Indians  to  depredations  in  Kentucky.  But 
most  of  the  inhabitants  —  a  care-free,  easy-going 
Creole  population,  whose  life  was  made  up  chiefly 
of  feasting  and  dancing  —  viewed  the  struggle  with 
entire  indifference,  heedless  which  side  won  as  long 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark      177 

as  their  butterfly  existence  was  not  disturbed.  They 
had  been  taught,  however,  to  regard  the  American 
backwoodsmen  as  devils  in  human  form,  far  more 
cruel  than  any  Indian;  a  piece  of  news  that  was  not 
unwelcome  to  Clark,  since  he  readily  perceived  how 
he  might  profit  from  it  by  working  on  the  fears  of 
the  French  and  then  gaining  their  affection  by  un- 
expected leniency. 

Satisfied  that  he  was  not  attempting  the  impos- 
sible, he  left  Harrodstown  on  October  i,  1777,  and 
after  a  tedious  journey  over  the  Wilderness  Road 
and  across  the  mountains  of  southwestern  Virginia, 
reached  Williamsburg  early  in  November.  The 
fiery  Patrick  Henry  —  another  Scotch-Irishman,  and 
not  unlike  Clark  in  vigor,  audacity,  and  sweep  of 
imagination  —  was  then  governor  of  Virginia,  and 
listened  with  rapt  enthusiasm  when  the  Kentuckian 
sought  him  out  and  unfolded  the  details  of  his  daring 
plan.  But,  Henry  declared,  Virginia's  means  were 
exhausted,  she  could  spare  neither  troops  nor  money 
for  even  so  promising  an  enterprise. 

With  the  persistence  characteristic  of  the  men  of 
the  West  —  and  without  which  they  could  never  have 
won  the  West  —  Clark  plied  him  with  new  arguments, 
fervid  entreaties.  The  ardent  Henry,  willingly  per- 
suaded but  at  a  loss  to  know  how  he  could  further 
Clark's  desires,  turned  for  advice  to  some  trusty 
counsellors  —  Thomas    Jefferson,     George    Mason, 


ijS     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  George  Wythe.  They,  too,  were  won  over  by 
the  Kentuckian's  eloquence,  his  air  of  confidence,  his 
tone  of  certitude. 

Secrecy  being  indispensable  for  the  success  of  the 
enterprise,  —  since,  if  an  inkling  of  Clark's  intentions 
got  abroad,  messengers  would  be  hurried  by  the 
British  to  put  the  Illinois  commandants  on  their 
guard,  —  it  was  arranged  that  the  sum  of  twelve 
hundred  pounds  should  be  privately  advanced  to 
him,  and  that  he  should  be  given  two  sets  of  instruc- 
tions by  Governor  Henry.  One  of  these,  intended 
to  be  made  pubHc,  simply  authorized  him  to  raise 
three  hundred  and  fifty  militiamen  for  the  defence  of 
Kentucky;  the  other,  contained  in  a  private  letter, 
directed  him  to  march  against  the  posts  in  the  North- 
west.    He  was  also  given  the  commission  of  colonel. 

So  much  time  had  been  consumed  by  these  nego- 
tiations that  it  was  not  until  the  end  of  January,  1778, 
that  Clark  was  able  to  begin  the  task  of  raising  his 
little  army.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  look  for 
many  recruits  from  among  his  fellow-Kentuckians, 
because  no  matter  how  strongly  they  might  desire 
to  serve  under  him  they  would  be  obliged  to  stay  at 
home  and  protect  the  settlements;  and  accordingly 
he  sought  for  followers  from  among  the  people  of 
the  less  exposed  frontier  region  of  the  Alleghanies. 
Even  there  he  found  the  greatest  difficulty  in  secur- 
ing volunteers,  such  was  the  dread  of  an  Indian  in- 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     179 

vasion,  and  in  the  end  he  was  obHged  to  set  out  ac- 
companied by  a  force  of  only  one  hundred  and  fifty 
—  most  of  them,  however,  men  like  himself,  strong- 
limbed,  quick-witted,  and  of  lion's  courage  and 
endurance. 

Voyaging  down  the  Ohio  in  flatboats,  and  main- 
taining a  constant  watch  to  prevent  a  surprise  from 
the  Indian-infested  forest  through  which  the  noble 
river  flowed,  the  expedition  safely  reached  the  Falls 
of  the  Ohio,  May  27,  1778.  Here  Clark  landed  and 
built  a  fort,  and  here  his  following  was  strengthened 
by  the  arrival  of  Simon  Kenton  and  several  other  Ken- 
tuckians,  as  well  as  a  company  of  volunteers  who  had 
marched  over  the  Wilderness  Road  from  the  settle- 
ments of  southwestern  Virginia. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  true  purpose  of  the 
enterprise  was  disclosed  to  the  backwoods  army. 
There  were  a  few  who  deserted  rather  than  hazard 
their  lives  in  what  they  regarded  as  a  mad  and  suici- 
dal business.  But  the  great  majority  hailed  it  with 
enthusiasm,  and  swore  to  follow  Clark  wherever  he 
might  see  fit  to  lead  them.  To  increase  their  en- 
thusiasm came  news  of  the  French  Alliance,  which 
they  at  once  interpreted  as  rendering  easier  the  task 
of  pacifying  the  inhabitants  of  the  old  French  posts. 
June  24,  work  on  the  fort  having  been  completed, 
they  once  more  embarked  and  voyaged  swiftly  down 
the  Ohio  to  a  point  a  few  miles  below  the  mouth  of 


i8o     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

the  Tennessee.  The  boats  were  now  abandoned,  and 
a  march  begun  in  a  northwesterly  direction. 

Kaskaskia,  which  Clark  intended  attacking  first, 
stood  in  the  angle  formed  by  the  juncture  of  the  river 
of  that  name  with  the  Mississippi;  and  it  would  have 
been  much  easier  to  have  made  the  entire  journey  by 
water.  But  Clark  rightly  feared  discovery  if  he 
attempted  to  ascend  the  Mississippi;  and,  in  fact, 
he  learned  from  some  American  hunters,  whom 
chance  brought  to  his  camp  on  the  lower  Ohio,  that 
the  French  commandant  at  Kaskaskia  had  been 
warned  that  some  hostile  move  was  contemplated 
against  that  towm,  and  had  posted  a  number  of  sen- 
tinels on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  to  sound  an 
immediate  alarm  at  the  approach  of  any  armed 
force.  Besides  giving  him  this  valuable  information, 
the  hunters  offered  to  guide  Clark  to  Kaskaskia  by 
the  shortest  possible  overland   route. 

Scouts  were  sent  ahead,  both  to  kill  game  for  pro- 
visions and  to  make  sure  that  no  wandering  French- 
man or  Indian  should  escape  with  tidings  of  the 
coming  of  the  invaders.  Not  an  ounce  of  superflu- 
ous baggage  was  taken  along,  and  not  a  man  lagged 
behind  when  once  the  command  to  start  had  been 
given,  as  every  one  realized  that  the  only  chance  for 
success  lay  in  arriving  at  their  destination  in  time 
to  catch  the  garrison  unawares.  Progress  was  slow, 
however,  for  forty  or  fifty  miles,  as  the  country  was 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark      i8i 

heavily  timbered,  with  a  dense  undergrowth  through 
which  a  trail  had  to  be  cut;  and  after  entering  the 
open  prairies  that  stretched  to  the  north  of  the  forest, 
some  delay  was  caused  by  the  principal  guide  losing 
the  way.  But  just  at  sunset  of  July  4  Clark  and 
his  weary  but  undaunted  followers  —  they  had 
marched  the  last  two  days  "without  sustenance"  — 
found  themselves  on  the  bank  of  the  Kaskaskia,  about 
three  miles  above  the  town. 

The  mere  fact  that  they  had  not  been  attacked 
was  sufficient  proof  that  their  presence  was  still  un- 
known to  the  garrison.  Still,  before  giving  battle, 
Clark  wished  to  learn  if  possible  the  exact  state  of 
affairs.  Leaving  the  main  body  to  follow  more 
leisurely,  he  pushed  ahead  with  a  small  detachment 
until  he  reached  a  farm-house  a  mile  or  so  from 
Kaskaskia.  Its  Creole  occupants  were  at  once  made 
prisoners  but  treated  kindly,  and  without  much  urg- 
ing they  told  him  what  he  was  anxious  to  learn. 

There  were,  it  appeared,  comparatively  few  Ind- 
ians at  Kaskaskia,  but  a  great  many  French,  most 
of  whom  had  been  well  armed  and  drilled  by  the 
commandant,  an  officer  named  Philippe  de  Roche- 
blave.  The  defences  of  the  fort  had  been  strength- 
ened, and  repeated  requests  had  been  sent  to  Gov- 
ernor Hamilton  at  Detroit,  begging  him  to  reenforce 
the  militia  by  a  regiment  of  regulars.  Thus  far  no 
reenforcements  had    arrived,    and    Rocheblave   had 


1 82     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

latterly  relaxed  his  vigilance,  believing  that  the  early 
rumors  of  an  invasion  must  have  been  unfounded. 
It  vs^as  quite  possible  that  entrance  might  be  gained 
not  merely  into  the  town,  which  stood  to  the  north  of 
the  fort,  but  also  into  the  fort  itself,  before  any  alarm 
would  be  given.  Thus  reassured,  and  guided  by 
the  Creoles,  Clark  marched  his  troops  back  to  the 
river,  where  boats  were  found  and  a  crossing  effected. 
Night  had  set  in,  but  the  moon  and  stars  gave 
light  sufficient  for  a  rapid  advance.  Just  before 
reaching  Kaskaskia,  Clark  again  divided  his  "army," 
selecting  twelve  or  fifteen  to  continue  with  him  to  the 
fort,  and  ordering  the  rest  to  disperse  silently  through 
the  town  in  groups  of  four  or  five,  ready  to  act  as 
soon  as  they  heard  sounds  of  conflict.  Both  town 
and  fort  were  in  complete  darkness,^  and  the  absence 
of  sentinels  testified  to  the  feeling  of  security  with 
which  the  inhabitants  had  gone  to  rest.  But,  as 
Clark  and  his  little  band  drew  near  the  fort  gate, 

^  Modern  historical  research  seems  to  have  completely  demol- 
ished the  romantic  and  well-known  tradition  in  which  Clark  is 
represented  as  having  arrived  at  Kaskaskia  during  the  progress 
of  a  ball  given  by  the  officers  of  the  fort  and  as  having  made  his 
way  unnoticed  to  the  ball-room,  where  he  grimly  bade  the  revellers 
continue  their  dancing,  "but  to  remember  that  they  now  danced 
under  Virginia  and  not  Great  Britain."  For  a  criticism  of  this 
legendary  version,  see  Dr.  Thwaites's  "How  George  Rogers  Clark 
won  the  Northwest." 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     183 

which  luckily  was  open,  some  keen-scented  watch- 
dogs set  up  a  noisy  howling. 

Undeterred,  the  Americans  rushed  in,  made  direct 
for  Rocheblave's  house,  broke  through  the  door,  and 
captured  the  commandant  in  an  upper  room.  With 
whoops  of  triumph  —  which  served  both  to  terrorize 
the  bewildered  and  already  panic-stricken  garrison, 
and  as  a  signal  to  the  force  in  the  town  —  they 
brought  Rocheblave  downstairs,  placed  him  under 
guard,  and  then  overpowered  and  disarmed  his 
subordinate  officers.  Meanwhile,  yelling  like  de- 
mons, their  fellow- Virginians  came  thundering  through 
the  streets,  shouting  to  the  people  to  keep  indoors. 
In  fifteen  minutes  they  were  masters  of  Kaskaskia 
without  the  firing  of  a  gun. 

That  night  there  was  no  sleep  for  either  the  con- 
querors or  the  conquered.  The  frightened  Creoles, 
huddled  together  in  their  homes,  spent  the  hours 
until  morning  on  their  knees,  praying  that  God 
would  preserve  them.  At  daybreak  Clark's  men 
made  a  house-to-house  search  for  arms,  a  proceeding 
which  naturally  intensified  the  prevaihng  terror. 
Clark's  attitude,  when  a  deputation  waited  on  him  to 
learn  his  intentions,  was  even  more  alarming. 

"Giving  all  for  lost,"  he  wrote  to  George  Mason, 
one  of  the  Virginia  statesmen  who  had  been  so  help- 
ful to  him  at  WiUiamsburg,  "their  lives  were  all  they 
could  dare  beg  for,  which  they  did  with  the  greatest 


184     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

servancy.  They  were  wilHng  to  be  slaves  to  save 
their  families.  I  told  them  it  did  not  suit  me  to  give 
them  an  answer  at  that  time,  and  they  repaired  to 
their  houses,  trembhng  as  if  they  were  led  to  exe- 
cution." ^ 

A  little  later,  however,  feeling  that  they  had  been 
sufficiently  overawed,  he  called  their  leading  men 
together,  informed  them  of  the  alliance  between 
France  and  the  United  States,  and  told  them  they 
would  be  free  to  come  and  go  as  they  pleased,  pro- 
vided only  that  they  took  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
Republic. 

All  anxiety  was  at  once  forgotten  in  an  ecstacy 
of  rejoicing.  Light-hearted  —  one  might  almost  say 
irresponsible  —  creatures  that  they  were,  it  mattered 
not  one  whit  to  the  Kaskaskians  under  what  flag 
they  lived.  They  danced  and  sang,  they  decorated 
their  cabins,  and,  in  further  token  of  their  joy,  erected 
in  the  streets  curious  little  pavilions  of  leaves  and 
flowers.     Commandant  Rocheblave  alone  remained 

^  Clark's  letter  to  Mason  (dated  Louisville,  Nov.  19,  1779)  is 
an  invaluable  document  for  the  study  of  the  conquest  of  the 
Northwest.  It  is  printed  in  full,  together  with  the  public  and  pri- 
vate instructions  given  to  Clark  by  Governor  Henry,  in  No.  3  of 
the  "Ohio  Valley  Historical  Series."  Copious  extracts  are  quoted 
from  it  in  Dr.  Thwaites's  "How  George  Rogers  Clark  won  the 
Northwest."  For  a  detailed  account  of  Clark's  campaign,  see  also 
Consul  Wilshire  Butterfield's  "  George  Rogers  Clark's  Conquest 
of  the  Illinois  and  the  Wabash  Towns,  1778  and  1779." 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark      185 

irreconcilable,  and  lest  he  should  stir  up  trouble 
Clark  soon  packed  him  off  to  Virginia  as  a  prisoner 
of  war. 

But  the  crowning  feature  of  Clark*s  policy  of  paci- 
fication was  the  assurance  he  gave  the  local  priest, 
Father  Pierre  Gibault,  that  the  people  would  be  un- 
disturbed in  the  practice  of  their  religion.  Devout 
Catholics  all  of  them,  the  Creoles  thenceforward 
rallied  about  him  with  greater  enthusiasm  than  ever, 
while  Father  Gibault,  overwhelmed  with  aston- 
ishment and  gratitude,  blossomed  forthwith  into  a 
zealous  promoter  of  Clark's  plans  for  the  extension 
of  the  conquest  to  the  neighboring  town  of  Cahokia 
and  the  more  distant  Vincennes. 

Bidding  some  of  his  parishioners  accompany  a 
small  party  of  Americans  to  Cahokia,  and  explain  to 
the  people  of  that  place  the  great  desirability  of  offer- 
ing no  resistance  to  the  Americans,  the  worthy  priest 
himself  mounted  a  horse  and  rode  to  Vincennes,  a 
journey  of  nearly  two  hundred  miles.  Early  in 
August  he  was  back  with  the  welcome  news  that 
through  his  influence  the  American  flag  had  been 
raised  there,  and  Clark  immediately  sent  one  of  his 
officers.  Captain  Leonard  Helm,  to  take  command 
of  the  Vincennes  mihtia.  In  similar  fashion  he  in- 
stalled Captain  Joseph  Bowman  as  commandant  at 
Cahokia,  he  himself  remaining  at  Kaskaskia. 

The  problem  of  pacifying  the  Illinois  Indians  had 


1 86     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

still  to  be  solved,  but,  by  the  aid  of  the  Creoles  and 
through  a  masterly  exhibition  of  strength  and  tact 
on  his  own  part,  Clark  was  entirely  successful  in 
treating  with  them  at  a  great  council  held  at  Cahokia. 

More  serious  was  the  difficulty  caused  by  the  desire 
of  most  of  his  followers,  whose  term  of  service  had 
expired,  to  return  to  their  homes.  He  well  knew  that, 
pending  the  arrival  of  fresh  troops  from  Virginia, 
he  could  not  afford  to  lose  a  man,  as  it  was  certain 
the  British  would  make  an  attempt  to  regain  the 
conquered  posts.  But  his  expostulations,  entreaties, 
and  promises  of  rich  rewards  fell  on  unheeding  ears, 
nearly  one  hundred  of  the  self-willed  backwoodsmen 
refusing  to  reenlist,  and  marching  hastily  away. 
To  fill  their  places  Clark  enlisted  an  equal  number 
of  young  Creole  volunteers,  whom  he  drilled  into 
really  efficient  soldiers.  This  work  helped  the  time 
pass  swiftly  and  agreeably. 

"Our  troops,"  he  wrote  to  Mason,  "being  all  raw 
and  undisciplined,  you  must  be  sensible  of  the 
pleasure  I  felt  when  haranguing  them  on  parade, 
telling  them  my  resolutions  and  the  necessity  of 
strict  duty  for  our  own  preservation,  etc.,  for  them 
to  return  me  for  answer  that  it  was  their  zeal  for  their 
country  that  induced  them  to  engage  in  the  service; 
that  they  were  sensible  of  their  situation  and  danger; 
that  nothing  could  conduce  more  to  their  safety  and 
happiness   than   good   order,  which   they  would   try 


George  Rogers  Clark 

From  portrait  by  J.  B.  Longacre,  after  painting  by  J.  W.  Jarvis 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     187 

to  adhere  to,  and  hoped  that  no  favor  would  be  shown 
those  that  would  neglect  it.  In  a  short  time  perhaps 
no  garrison  could  boast  of  better  order,  or  a  more 
valuable  set  of  men/' 

Every  day  was  bringing  nearer  the  moment  when 
the  mettle  of  this  "most  valuable  set  of  men"  would 
be  put  to  one  of  the  severest  tests  imposed  on  any 
body  of  troops  in  the  history  of  warfare.  As  Clark 
had  fully  expected.  Governor  Hamilton,  so  soon  as 
he  learned  the  amazing  news  from  the  IlHnois  coun- 
try, began  to  organize  an  expedition  of  reconquest. 
An  entire  month  was  devoted  to  fitting  it  out,  and 
when  it  left  Detroit,  Oct.  7,  it  consisted  of  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  whites,  mostly  French-Cana- 
dian volunteers,  and  one  hundred  Indians,  or  a  total 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  men,  led  by  Hamilton  him- 
self. Later  accessions,  both  of  whites  and  Indians, 
brought  the  total  up  to  five  hundred. 

The  shortest  and  most  practicable  route  to  Vin- 
cennes  was  chosen  —  across  Lake  Erie  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Maumee,  up  that  stream  to  a  large  Indian 
village,  and  thence  by  a  nine-mile  portage  to  a 
tributary  of  the  Wabash,  down  which  the  expedition 
floated  to  its  destination;  but  the  weather  turned 
unexpectedly  cold,  forming  surface  ice  which  impeded 
the  progress  of  the  boats  to  such  an  extent  that 
Vincennes  was  not  reached  until  Dec.  17,  or  seventy- 
one  days  after  the  start  had  been  made  from  Detroit. 


1 88     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Besides  Captain  Helm  there  were  only  two  Ameri- 
cans at  the  quaint  old  fort  on  the  Wabash,  and  as  the 
Creole  militia  immediately  went  over  to  the  enemy 
there  was  nothing  for  Helm  to  do  but  surrender. 
An  interesting,  but  quite  incredible,  tradition  has 
it  that  when  Hamilton  approached  Vincennes  at 
the  head  of  his  motley  army,  he  found  Helm  stand- 
ing, match  in  hand,  beside  a  loaded  cannon,  and 
that  Helm  refused  to  allow  any  one  to  enter  until 
satisfactory  terms  of  capitulation  had  been  arranged. 

What  actually  happened  was  that,  instead  of 
marching  out  with  "the  honors  of  war,"  as  this 
tradition  declares,  the  Americans  were  held  prisoners 
and  closely  guarded  to  prevent  their  escaping  to 
Clark  with  a  warning  of  Hamilton's  arrival.  It 
was  also  decided  by  the  British  commander  not  to 
advance  against  Kaskaskia  and  Cahokia  at  that  time, 
but  to  remain  at  Vincennes  until  the  open  weather  of 
spring  should  render  travel  less  difficult  and  hazard- 
ous. Feeling  perfectly  secure  in  his  position,  he 
permitted  rather  more  than  half  his  force  to  go  home, 
with  orders  to  return  to  Vincennes  in  the  early  spring, 
to  bring  reenforcements  with  them,  and  to  come 
prepared  for  a  campaign  having  as  its  object  not 
simply  the  expulsion  of  the  Americans  from  the 
Illinois  region,  but  the  blotting  out  of  the  settlements 
in  Kentucky. 

Had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  execute  this  am- 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark      189 

bitious  project,  the  whole  course  of  American  history 
would  in  all  likehhood  have  been  changed.  But 
by  lingering  at  Vincennes  he  gave  Clark  a  chance 
to  save  himself  and  to  save  the  West  for  his  country- 
men —  and  Clark  was  not  the  man  to  let  slip  any 
chance,  no  matter  how  slender  it  might  be. 

Having  once  learned  of  Hamilton's  presence  at 
Vincennes  and  his  intended  inaction  until  spring, 
he  determined  to  march  across  country  and  endeavor 
to  repeat  his  exploit  of  the  previous  July.  As  was 
immediately  pointed  out  by  his  Kaskaskia  volunteers, 
who  had  little  relish  for  so  daring  a  venture,  a  suc- 
cession of  thaws  had  caused  such  heavy  floods  that 
a  great  part  of  the  intervening  territory  was  under 
water,  and  even  should  the  troops  succeed  in  drag- 
ging themselves  through  the  innumerable  bogs  and 
morasses  they  would  scarcely  be  in  a  condition  to 
make  a  winning  fight  at  their  journey's  end.  By 
way  of  reply  Clark  bluntly  told  them  that  they  could 
accompany  him  or  not  as  they  chose  —  that  he 
knew  he  could  depend  on  his  brave  Americans,  and 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Vincennes  if 
he  had  to  swim  every  foot  of  the  way. 

His  air  of  confidence  was  not  without  effect,  nor 
was  the  attitude  taken  by  the  Creole  girls  of  both 
Kaskaskia  and  Cahokia,  who  showed  the  greatest 
interest  in  his  expedition  and  sought  to  shame  their 
brothers   and  lovers  into  joining  it.     Largely  as  a 


190 


Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 


result  of  their  urging,  the  "principal  young  men  of 
the  Illinois"  finally  consented  to  undertake  the 
perilous  march,  and  early  in  February,  1779,  Clark 
was  able  to  set  out  for  Kaskaskia  at  the  head  of  a 
combined  force  of  one  hundred  and  seventy  Ameri- 
cans and  French. 

For  a  week  the  journey,  though  slow  and  difficult, 
was  not  so  arduous  as  had  been  expected.  Its 
monotony  was  broken  by  several  buffalo  hunts, 
and  in  the  evenings  all  fraternized  together  around 
huge  camp-fires,  feasting,  singing,  and  telling  stories. 
In  this  way  the  men  contrived  to  keep  up  their 
spirits,  even  for  some  days  after  they  entered  the 
so-called  "drowned  lands''  of  the  Wabash,  a  wide 
tract  of  flooded  country  extending  from  the  Little 
Wabash  almost  to  Vincennes. 

Their  first  experience  of  the  fearful  hardships  in 
store  for  them  came  when  they  struck  the  peninsula 
between  the  two  branches  of  the  Little  Wabash. 
Here  the  opposite  heights  of  land  were  five  miles 
apart,  and  from  one  to  the  other  stretched  an  un- 
broken sheet  of  flood-water,  at  no  place  less  than  three 
feet  deep.  "This  would  have  been  enough,'*  as 
Clark  picturesquely  wrote,  "to  have  stopped  any  set 
of  men  that  was  not  in  the  same  temper  we  was  in." 
A  large  canoe  was  hurriedly  built  to  ferry  the  troops 
and  supplies  across  the  deeper  channels,  the  pack- 
horses  swimming  behind  to  be  reloaded  from  scaf- 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     191 

folding  set  up  in  the  shallow  parts  of  the  submerged 
plain.  But  for  most  of  the  way  men  and  beasts 
alike  dragged  their  weary  limbs  through  the  bush- 
strewn  water. 

Thenceforward  not  a  mile  of  the  journey  was  made 
on  dry  land,  and  Clark's  desperate  followers  were 
frequently  obliged  to  traverse  broad  expanses  of 
swamp-land  and  meadow,  where  the  water  rose  breast- 
high.  Often,  too,  they  were  hard  pressed  to  find 
a  dry  enough  spot  on  which  to  camp;  and  as  all 
game  had  been  driven  away  by  the  floods,  they  began 
to  suffer  from  hunger  as  well  as  from  exposure  and 
exhaustion.  Under  the  circumstances  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  many  talked  of  turning  back,  and  that 
the  Creole  volunteers  openly  threatened  to  desert. 
But  Clark,  with  the  masterfulness  that  distinguished 
his  entire  career  as  a  military  commander,  held  them 
firmly  to  their  purpose,  and  constantly  set  them  an 
example  of  heroic  boldness  and  endurance. 

Once,  it  is  said,  when  they  refused  to  trust  them- 
selves to  a  water-filled  depression  that  seemed  un- 
fordable,  he  blackened  his  face  like  an  Indian,  gave 
the  war-whoop,  and  sprang  into  the  ice-cold  water; 
upon  which,  without  another  word,  his  men  waded 
in  after  him,  following  his  tall  form  until  they  reached 
in  safety  the  point  at  which  they  had  been  aiming. 

The  last  few  miles  were  far  and  away  the  worst. 
On  the  fifteenth  day  from   Kaskaskia  the  famished 


192     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  worn  soldiers  crossed  the  Wabash  in  a  pouring 
rain  and  turned  north  for  the  final  stage  of  the  heart- 
breaking march.  All  about  them  was  a  watery 
waste,  broken  only  by  some  scattered  hillocks  that 
barely  crested  the  flood.  Many  of  the  men  were 
so  weak  that  they  had  to  be  carried  in  canoes,  while 
the  rest  staggered  wearily  forward,  the  water  often 
up  to  their  chins.  That  day  they  covered  less  than 
three  miles,  and,  drenched  to  the  bone,  passed  the 
night  on  a  boggy  island-knoll  "within  sound  of  the 
evening  and  morning  guns  from  the  fort."  Next 
day  the  story  was  the  same,  and  nightfall  found  them 
still  some  miles  from  Vincennes.  Before  morning 
it  turned  bitterly  cold  —  so  cold  that  their  wet 
garments  stiflPened  on  them  like  so  many  coats  of 
armor.  Now  came  a  renewal  of  the  mutterings  of 
discontent  and  mutiny,  but  Clark,  unshakable  as 
ever,  grimly  took  his  accustomed  place  at  the  head 
of  the  column,  and  bade  his  ofl^cers  bring  up  the  rear 
and  shoot  any  one  who  refused  to  march. 

A  little  while  and  they  could  plainly  see  the  thick 
fringe  of  forest  behind  which  Vincennes  nestled. 
In  between  lay  what  was  in  the  summer  a  verdant, 
smiling  plain,  but  was  then  a  shallow  lake  four  miles 
wide  and  without  one  inch  of  ground  showing  above 
its  smooth  surface.  All  but  the  strongest  began  to 
slacken  their  pace  when  halfway  across.  Some, 
unable  longer  to  maintain  their  footing,  were  saved 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     193 

from  drowning  only  by  the  efforts  of  their  sturdier 
comrades,  who  lifted  them  into  the  waiting  canoes. 
As  they  approached  the  woods  the  water  deepened 
until  it  was  up  to  the  shoulders  of  the  tallest,  but  by 
the  aid  of  the  canoes  and  of  floating  logs  all  managed 
to  reach  shore  without  mishap.  Not  a  few,  however, 
were  so  exhausted  that  they  fell  forward  the  moment 
they  set  foot  on  land.  Had  Hamilton  and  his 
British  garrison  put  in  an  appearance  at  that  mo- 
ment, Clark's  ever  memorable  march  across  the 
"drowned  lands"  of  the  Wabash  must  have  come  to 
an  inglorious  end. 

Fortunately,  as  Clark  learned  from  a  Vincennes 
Frenchman  whom  some  of  his  Creoles  captured, 
Hamilton  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  that  a 
hostile  force  was  —  or  could  be  —  within  striking 
distance.  The  prisoner  also  gave  Clark  the  pleas- 
ing assurance  that  the  people  of  Vincennes  were 
none  too  fond  of  the  British  governor,  and  would 
certainly  not  take  up  arms  in  his  behalf  if  they  could 
avoid  doing  so.  This  led  the  bold  Kentuckian  to 
map  out  a  course  of  action  which,  even  for  him, 
was  singularly  audacious. 

Waiting  until  his  men  had  warmed  themselves 
beside  some  blazing  fires,  had  dried  their  clothes 
and  rifles,  and  had  refreshed  themselves  with  a  little 
buffalo  meat,  he  sent  the  prisoner  to  Vincennes  as 
the   bearer  of  a   "proclamation"   in  which   he   an- 


194     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

nounced  his  intention  of  attacking  the  fort  that  night, 
promised  generous  treatment  to  all  who  proved 
themselves  "true  citizens,"  and  advised  all  others 
to  "repair  to  the  fort,  and  join  the  Hair-Buyer 
General,    and   fight   like   men." 

The  town  of  Vincennes  was  some  little  distance 
from  the  fort,  and  although  the  invaders  could  be 
seen  from  the  former  they  were  hidden  from  the  view 
of  the  garrison.  In  order  to  give  the  townspeople 
a  false  idea  of  his  strength,  Clark  caused  his  men 
to  parade  up  and  down  in  such  a  way  that  they  seemed 
to  be  three  or  four  times  as  numerous  as  they  really 
were.  But  he  need  not  have  resorted  to  this  stratagem. 
The  mere  mention  of  his  name,  and  his  sudden  and 
totally  unexpected  appearance  out  of  the  flood-swept 
meadows,  so  appalled  the  inhabitants  of  Vincennes 
that  not  one  of  them  dared  show  sufficient  friendli- 
ness to  Hamilton  to  visit  the  fort  and  warn  him. 
How  unprepared  Hamilton  was,  may  be  judged  from 
the  fact  that,  when  the  attack  began,  shortly  after 
seven  o'clock,  he  supposed  that  the  first  shots  were 
fired  by  some  drunken  Indians. 

Looking  out,  however,  and  perceiving  in  the  bright 
moonlight  that  the  fort  was  surrounded  by  white  men, 
he  instantly  grasped  the  situation  and  made  hurried 
preparations  for  defence.  As  in  most  structures 
of  the  kind,  there  was  a  blockhouse  at  each  of  the 
four  corners  of  the  high  stockade  surrounding  the 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark      195 

garrison's  quarters,  and  all  four  blockhouses  were 
equipped  with  cannon.  These  were  at  once  dis- 
charo:ed  a2:ainst  the  assailants,  who  scattered  in 
every  direction  to  renew  their  attack  from  whatever 
would  give  them  cover. 

Although  without  artillery  himself,  Clark  reahzed 
that  it  was  imperative  to  silence  the  enemy's  guns 
in  some  way,  and  he  quickly  passed  the  word  to 
concentrate  the  rifle-fire  on  the  batteries  of  the  block- 
houses. All  of  his  Americans,  and  many  of  the 
Creoles,  were  crack  shots;  and  so  deadly  accurate 
was  their  aim  that  before  many  minutes  none  of 
the  garrison  dared  attempt  to  operate  the  cannon. 
But  they  kept  up  a  brave  defence  until  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  when  the  moon  set  and  darkness 
compelled  a  suspension  of  hostilities. 

Before  sunrise  Clark  gained  a  decided  advantage 
by  throwing  up  a  strong  intrenchment  near  the  fort, 
thus  enabling  his  sharpshooters  to  harass  its  defend- 
ers with  comparatively  little  danger  to  themselves. 
The  absence  of  any  attempt  at  a  sortie,  and  the  silenc- 
ing of  the  guns,  convinced  him  that  unless  aid  came 
from  outside,  Hamilton  must  in  the  end  surrender. 
To  guard  against  possible  interference  he  detached 
fifty  men  to  watch  the  approaches  to  the  town ;  and 
it  was  well  that  he  did  so,  for  early  in  the  morning 
a  party  of  Indians  rode  into  Vincennes,  fresh  from 
a  successful  foray  against  the  frontier. 


196     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Maddened  by  the  sight  of  the  scalps  which  the 
savages  ostentatiously  displayed,  Clark's  men  fell 
upon  them,  killed  and  wounded  a  number  and  made 
six  of  them  prisoners.  By  Clark's  orders  these 
captives  were  ruthlessly  tomahawked  and  thrown 
into  the  Wabash  in  full  view  of  the  garrison  —  an 
act  which  had  the  double  effect  of  terrorizing  the 
people  of  Vincennes  into  continued  neutrality,  and 
of  creating  a  panic  among  the  French-Canadians 
in   the   fort. 

An  hour  or  two  earlier  Clark  had  sent  a  messenger 
to  Hamilton  inviting  him  to  save  himself  from  "the 
impending  storm,"  but  Hamilton  had  angrily  de- 
cHned  "to  be  awed  into  an  action  unworthy  of  a 
British  subject."  Now,  convinced  by  the  attitude 
of  his  French-Canadian  mihtia  that  it  was  impossible 
to  hope  to  hold  out  much  longer,  he  requested  a 
truce  for  three  days. 

"Colonel  Clark's  compliments  to  Mr.  Hamilton," 
came  the  stern  reply,  "and  begs  leave  to  inform  him 
that  Colonel  Clark  will  not  agree  to  any  other  terms 
than  that  of  Mr.  Hamilton's  surrendering  himself  and 
garrison  prisoners  at  discretion.  If  Mr.  Hamilton  is 
desirous  of  a  conference  with  Colonel  Clark,  he  will 
meet  him  at  the  church,  with  Mr.  Helm." 

To  the  little  French  church  in  Vincennes,  at  a  late 
hour  in  the  afternoon,  came  the  helpless  "Mr. 
Hamilton,"  ablaze  with  impotent  wrath  at  the  thought 


The  Campaigning  of  George  Rogers  Clark     197 

of  being  obliged  to  yield  his  fort  to  "a  set  of  un- 
civilized Virginia  woodsmen  armed  with  rifles." 

It   was    not    a    pleasant    meeting.     Clark,    in   his 
rugged,  outright  way,  and  unsparing  in  his  use  of 
epithets,  denounced  Hamilton  to  his  face  as  the  one 
man    responsible    for    the    atrocities    of  the    Indian 
alHes  of  the  British.     Defending  himself  on  the  plea 
that  he  had  but  been  carrying  out  the  orders  of  his 
superiors,  hot  and  angry  words  flew  fast.     Ultimately, 
though  only  after  much  disputing,  terms  of  capitu- 
lation were    arranged,    Hamilton    agreeing    to    sur- 
render the  fort  at  ten  o'clock  the  following  morning, 
Feb.    25,    together    with    its    garrison    of    seventy- 
nine   men.     Promptly    at   the   hour   appointed,    the 
victorious  Clark  marched  in,  hoisted  the  American 
colors,  and  gave  to  the  fort  the  new  name  of  "  Patrick 
Henry,"  in    honor  of  the  man  without   whose  aid 
his  dream  of  conquest  would  never  have  come  true. 
That  it  had  come  true,  and  that  it  was  pregnant 
with  the  most  far-reaching  consequences  to  posterity, 
not  even  Clark  realized   as  he  stood  in  the  battle- 
scarred  stockade  amid  the  brave  fellows  who  had 
followed  him  through  flood  and  forest.     Yet,  with 
the  fall  of  Vincennes  a  new  era  opened  in  the  history 
of  the  isolated  region  where,  so  many  years  before, 
the  Frenchman  had   planted  his  forts   and  trading 
stations  in  the  vain  hope  of  checking  the  irresistible 
advance  of  his  English  rival. 


198     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Gone  forever  was  the  day  of  French  dominion  — 
gone,  too,  the  day  of  British  supremacy.  Henceforth 
it  was  to  be  the  American  —  bold,  hardy,  enterprising, 
and  progressive  —  who  should  hold  and  open  up 
and  develop  the  prairies  and  valleys  of  the  great 
Northwest.  With  fewer  than  two  hundred  ragged, 
starving,  and  enfeebled  soldiers,  George  Rogers 
Clark  had  won  for  the  United  States  an  inland  king- 
dom of  magnificent  possibilities,  had  dealt  a  giant's 
blow  in  behalf  of  his  fellow-Kentuckians  and  of  the 
larger  cause  of  independence,  and  had  earned  for 
himself  an  imperishable  renown  in  his  country's 
history. 

Not  that  the  conquest  of  Kaskaskia,  Cahokia, 
and  Vincennes,  and  the  capture  of  Hamilton  — 
who  was  sent  in  irons  to  Virginia  —  brought  immedi- 
ate peace  to  the  men  of  Kentucky.  They  still  had 
to  fight  long  and  manfully  and  desperately  to  defend 
their  homes  against  the  raiding  savage.  But  without 
the  respite  afforded  by  Clark's  campaigning,  which 
had  the  effect  both  of  weakening  the  enemy  and  of 
encouraging  immigration  to  the  West,  the  Kentuckians 
must  in  time  have  acknowledged  defeat.  The  mar- 
vel is  that  they  did  not  succumb  during  his  absence, 
when  they  experienced  many  severe  losses,  not  the 
least  of  which  was  the  dragging  away  of  their 
leader,  Daniel  Boone,  into  a  prolonged  Indian 
captivity. 


CHAPTER  XII 

BOONE    AMONG    THE    INDIANS 

IT  was  while  attempting  to  render  an  important 
and  necessary  service  to  his  fellow-settlers  at 
Boonesborough  that  the  famous  explorer  and 
road-maker  for  the  second  time  became  an  Indian 
captive. 

Travel  along  the  Wilderness  Road,  as  has  been  said, 
had  almost  completely  ceased  as  a  result  of  the  war, 
and  the  Kentuckians  had  consequently  been  unable 
to  obtain  the  supphes  they  had  formerly  imported 
from  the  manufacturing  centres  of  Virginia.  Among 
these  was  that  indispensable  article  of  food  —  salt. 
During  the  fall  of  1777,  however,  they  had  received 
from  the  Virginia  government  a  number  of  boihng 
kettles  which  it  was  hoped  would  enable  them  to 
make  salt  for  themselves  at  the  various  buffalo  licks. 
Early  in  January,  1778,  a  party  of  thirty  settlers, 
headed  by  Boone,  left  Boonesborough  for  the  lower 
Blue  Lick  for  the  purpose  of  securing  at  least  a  year's 
supply  of  salt,  so  that  they  should  have  an  ample 
quantity  on  hand  in  case  the  activity  of  the  Indians 

199 


200     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

prevented  them  from  resuming  its  manufacture. 
For  some  weeks  the  savages  had  given  comparatively 
little  trouble,  and  it  was  confidently  hoped  that  the 
salt-makers  would  be  able  to  carry  out  their  under- 
taking without  molestation.  Nevertheless  a  sharp 
watch  was  kept,  and  while  half  the  party  worked  at 
the  boiling,  the  others  ranged  cautiously  through  the 
woods,  ready  to  run  in  and  give  the  alarm  at  the 
least  sign  of  Indians. 

Several  weeks  passed  uneventfully.  A  considerable 
amount  of  salt  was  made,  and  shipped  to  Boones- 
borough  in  charge  of  three  or  four  men,  and  in  a  few 
more  days  the  entire  party  intended  returning  to 
the  fort.  But,  by  an  unlucky  chance,  just  as  they 
were  about  to  depart,  a  war-band  of  Shawnees 
surprised  and  captured  Boone  and  compelled  him 
to  lead  them  to  the  camp,  where  all  were  made 
prisoners. 

At  the  time  of  his  capture  Boone  was  scouting  about 
ten  miles  from  the  Blue  Lick,  in  the  midst  of  a  blind- 
ing snowstorm.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and 
he  was  homeward  bound,  leading  a  pack-horse  laden 
with  buffalo  meat  which  he  had  shot  during  the  day. 
Suddenly,  out  of  the  whirl  of  the  snow,  four  burly 
Indians  confronted  him.  Dropping  the  horse's 
halter  he  turned  and  ran,  dodging  in  and  out  among 
the  trees,  with  the  Shawnees  in  hot  pursuit.  Fleet 
of  foot  though  he  was,  the  Indians  were  faster,  and 


Boone  among  the  Indians  201 

in  a  few  minutes  he  was  in  their  grasp  and  securely 
bound. 

They  took  him  some  miles  to  an  encampment  where 
he  found  more  than  a  hundred  warriors,  com- 
manded by  a  Shawnee  chieftain,  Black  Fish,  and 
accompanied  by  two  Canadians  and  two  American 
renegades  from  Pittsburg,  James  and  George  Girty, 
brothers  of  a  notorious  "white  Indian,"  Simon  Girty.^ 
Among  the  Indians,  by  a  singular  coincidence,  were 
several  of  the  party  who  had  captured  him  eight 
years  before,  and  these  at  once  recognized  him, 
and,  with  mock  politeness,  introduced  him  to  their 
mates. 

He  learned,  to  his  dismay,  that  the  Indians  were 
en  route  to  attack  Boonesborough.  But  first,  they 
told  him,  he  must  conduct  them  to  the  camp  of  the 
salt-makers  and  induce  the  latter  to  surrender.  His 
decision  was  quickly  reached.  He  knew  the  Indian 
character  well  enough  to  be  aware  that  if  they  did 
succeed    in    capturing   the  salt-makers,  they   would 

^  The  Girtys  were  borderers  who,  joining  the  British,  partici- 
pated in  numerous  Indian  raids  against  the  frontier  settlements. 
Simon  was  especially  dreaded  and  hated  by  the  backwoods  people, 
and  was  credited  with  many  acts  of  diabolical  cruelty  which,  as 
recent  historical  research  has  made  certain,  he  did  not  commit. 
Still,  when  everything  that  can  be  said  in  his  favor  is  said,  he  re- 
mains a  thoroughly  despicable  figure.  For  an  excellent  account 
of  Simon  and  his  brothers,  see  Consul  Wilshire  Butterfield's  "His- 
tory of  the  Girtys." 


202     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

abandon  all  idea  of  attacking  Boonesborough,  and 
would  instead  return  in  triumph  to  their  villages, 
perfectly  content  with  having  taken  a  few  prisoners. 
For  the  sake  of  the  settlement  he  felt  that  he  ought 
to  acquiesce  in  the  Shawnees'  demands,  even  though 
they  might  afterwards  fail  to  live  up  to  their  promise 
to  treat  the  salt-makers  kindly.  Accordingly,  the 
following  day  he  guided  the  Indians  to  the  camp  at 
the  lower  Blue  Lick,  and,  pointing  out  to  his  luckless 
companions  that  resistance  to  such  an  overwhelming 
force  would  be  useless,  persuaded  them  to  lay  down 
their  arms. 

For  this  he  was  later  court-martialed,  but  justly 
acquitted.  Things  fell  out  exactly  as  he  had  hoped 
they  would.  In  spite  of  the  angry  protests  of  the 
Girty  brothers  and  the  two  Canadians,  the  Shawnees 
refused  to  proceed  another  step,  and  began  their 
homeward  march,  which  turned  out  to  be  a  terrible 
journey  for  captors  and  prisoners  alike.  The  weather 
was  intensely  cold,  there  was  a  heavy  snowfall,  and 
before  reaching  the  Shawnee  town  of  Chillicothe  — 
situated  on  the  Little  Miami,  about  three  miles  north 
of  the  present  town  of  Xenia,  Ohio  —  the  Indians, 
in  order  to  obtain  food,  were  forced  to  kill  some  of 
their  horses  and  dogs.  Whatever  provision  they 
had  they  shared  liberally  with  the  salt-makers,  not 
out  of  any  kindly  feeling  but  because  they  wished  to 
take  them  to  Detroit  and  receive  the  liberal  rewards 


Boone  among  the  Indians  203 

offered  by  the  British  governor,  Hamilton,  for  all 
prisoners  brought  in. 

Even  so,  there  w^as  a  strong  minority  that  v^ould 
have  preferred  torturing  them  to  death.  At  a  council 
held  immediately  after  their  capture  a  vote  was  taken 
on  the  question  of  burning  them  at  the  stake  or  of 
reserving  them  for  the  governor's  rew^ards,  and 
fifty-nine  voted  for  the  stake  as  against  sixty-one  for 
the  money,  the  majority  in  favor  of  keeping  faith  and 
sparing  their  lives  being  thus  only  two. 

There  was  one  prisoner,  indeed,  who  they  soon 
determined  not  to  release  for  any  consideration. 
This  was  Boone.  Appreciating  keenly  the  re- 
sponsibility he  had  taken  upon  himself  by  delivering 
his  friends  into  their  power,  he  spared  no  effort  to 
placate  the  Indians  and  keep  them  in  good  humor. 
As  a  result  they  became  sincerely  fond  of  him,  and 
announced  their  intention  of  making  him  one  of 
themselves. 

It  was  all  in  vain  that,  as  soon  as  he  learned  this, 
Boone  exerted  himself  to  win  the  good-will  of  Gov- 
ernor Hamilton,  assuring  him,  with  pardonable  men- 
dacity, of  his  entire  willingness  to  turn  Tory  and 
desert  the  American  cause.  Hamilton,  believing  him, 
and  regarding  him,  on  account  of  his  knowledge  of 
forest  life  and  skill  with  the  rifle,  as  a  most  desirable 
acquisition,  offered  as  high  as  one  hundred  pounds 
sterling  for  his  release.     The  Indians  merely  shook 


204     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

their  heads,  while  their  chieftain,  Black  Fish,  de- 
clared that  not  only  would  he  take  Boone  back  with 
him  from  Detroit  to  Chillicothe,  but  that  he  would 
adopt  him  into  the  tribe  as  his  own  son. 

The  ceremony  of  adoption  was  no  perfunctory 
affair.  "The  hair  of  the  candidate's  head,''  says 
one  well  acquainted  with  Indian  customs,  "is  plucked 
out  by  a  tedious  and  painful  operation,  leaving  a 
tuft,  some  three  or  four  inches  in  diameter,  on  the 
crown,  for  the  scalp-lock,  which  is  cut  and  dressed 
up  with  ribbons  and  feathers.  The  candidate  is  then 
taken  to  a  river  and  there  thoroughly  washed  and 
rubbed,  *to  take  all  his  white  blood  out/  He  is 
then  taken  to  the  council-house,  where  the  chief 
makes  a  speech  in  which  he  expatiates  upon  the 
distinguished  honors  conferred  on  him  and  the  line 
of  conduct  expected  from  him.  His  head  and  face 
are  painted  in  the  most  approved  and  fashionable 
style,  and  the  ceremony  is  concluded  with  a  grand 
feast  and  smoking." 

How  far  the  details  of  this  programme  were  exe- 
cuted in  Boone's  case  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but 
it  may  safely  be  hazarded  that  by  the  time  the  Indians 
had  finished  painting  and  decorating  him  not  even 
his  mother  would  have  recognized  him.  Still,  he  was 
careful  to  keep  them  from  suspecting  that  he  con- 
sidered his  transformation  into  a  full-fledged  Shawnee 
brave   anything   but   a   high   honor.     Not  the  least 


Boone  among  the  Indians  205 

valuable  of  the  many  accomplishments  he  had  gained 
through  his  constant  contact  with  the  wilderness, 
was  the  art  of  concealing  not  merely  his  person  but 
his  feehngs.  He  entered  with  well-simulated  en- 
thusiasm into  the  Hfe  of  the  Indians,  smoked  with 
them,  hunted  with  them,  ate  with  them,  and  seem- 
ingly enjoyed  it  all,  although,  as  he  afterwards  naively 
said,  the  food  and  lodging  were  "not  so  good  as  I 
could  desire,  but  necessity  made  everything  agreeable." 
In  a  short  time  Big  Turtle,  as  he  had  been  named, 
was  one  of  the  most  popular  warriors  in  the  village. 

All  the  while  he  was  patiently  planning  a  way  of 
escape,  and  resorting  to  the  most  ingenious  devices 
to  thwart  the  vigilance  with  which  the  Indians,  not- 
withstanding their  Hking  for  him,  watched  his  every 
movement.  It  was  their  custom,  whenever  they 
permitted  him  to  leave  Chillicothe  on  a  hunting 
expedition,  to  count  the  bullets  he  took  with  him,  and 
he  was  required  to  return  all  excepting  those  spent 
in  shooting  game.  By  dividing  a  number  of  bullets 
into  halves,  and  using  light  charges  of  powder,  just 
sufficient  to  kill  turkeys,  squirrels,  and  other  small 
game,  he  managed  to  save  several  charges  for  his 
own  use  if  a  chance  to  escape  presented  itself. 

Early  in  June,  having  then  been  a  prisoner  of  the 
Shawnees  for  more  than  four  months,  he  was  sent 
with  a  small  detachment  of  Indians  to  make  salt  at 
a  lick  on   the   Scioto.     Upon   his   return,   ten   days 


2o6     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

later,  he  was  astonished  to  find  that  during  his  absence 
Indians  from  other  towns  and  tribes  had  been  pour- 
ing into  Chillicothe,  until  nearly  five  hundred  war- 
riors were  assembled  there,  decked  in  all  the  panoply 
of  a  war-party.  He  had  picked  up  a  smattering 
of  the  Shawnee  tongue,  and  by  unobtrusively  min- 
gling with  the  throng  he  learned  that  within  a  week 
it  was  planned  to  send  a  strong  expedition  into  Ken- 
tucky, having  for  its  special  object  nothing  less  than 
the  destruction  of  Boonesborough. 

Now  indeed  Boone  felt  that  the  time  had  come 
when,  at  all  hazards,  he  must  attempt  to  escape. 
He  spent  a  day  in  making  secret  preparations, 
gathering  together  his  Httle  stock  of  powder  and 
bullets,  cleaning  his  rifle,  sharpening  his  hunting- 
knife,  and  mending  his  moccasins.  Then,  early 
in  the  morning  of  June  i6,  having  obtained  permis- 
sion to  go  hunting,  he  struck  off  from  Chillicothe  in 
a  direct  line  for  the  Ohio.  He  would  have  at  least  ten 
hours'  start,  but  pursuit  was  certain  to  be  fast  and 
furious  the  moment  his  flight  was  discovered,  and 
knowing  this,  he  raced  through  the  forest  at  top  speed 
in  the  effort  to  put  as  many  miles  as  possible  be- 
tween  him   and   Chillicothe   before   nightfall. 

Perhaps  no  other  incident  in  Boone's  long  and 
remarkable  career  brings  out  so  clearly  the  noble 
characteristics  that  have  made  his  memory  so  dear 
to  Americans  as  does  this  flight  through  the  Ohio 


Boone  among  the  Indians  207 

wilderness.  He  was  fleeing,  not  to  gain  freedom  for 
himself,  but  to  save  the  Hves  of  others.  Like  a  father 
ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  his  chil- 
dren, Boone  was  deliberately  taking  his  life  in  his 
hands  that  he  might  carry  a  warning  to  the  settlers 
who  had  so  often  looked  to  him  in  the  past  for  pro- 
tection and  guidance.  Were  he  captured  his  fate 
was  sealed  —  a  terrible  doom  awaited  him.  His 
flight  would  seem  to  the  Shawnees  the  basest  ingrati- 
tude, punishable  by  death  in  its  most  horrid  form  and 
after  excruciating  tortures.  But  he  thought  not  of 
himself  —  he  thought  only  of  the  brave  men,  the 
helpless  women  and  children,  who  would  inevitably 
fall  victims  to  the  ferocity  of  the  savages  were  he 
overtaken. 

Doubling  on  his  tracks,  setting  blind  trails,  wading 
down  the  beds  of  streams,  using  every  artifice  of  the 
skilled  woodsman  to  baffle  his  pursuers,  he  finally 
reached  the  Ohio.  He  was  not  a  good  swimmer,  and 
he  anticipated  great  difficulty  in  crossing  that  river, 
which  had  been  swollen  by  heavy  rains  and  was  run- 
ning with  a  strong  current.  But  he  was  lucky 
enough  to  find  an  abandoned  canoe  caught  among 
some  bushes  growing  along  the  bank,  and  although 
the  frail  craft  was  badly  damaged,  he  contrived  to 
mend  it  suflliciently  to  bear  him  in  safety  to  the  other 
side. 

He  was  still  many  miles  from  Boonesborough,  and 


2o8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

by  no  means  out  of  danger,  for  at  any  moment  he 
might  stumble  into  the  camp  of  some  wandering 
party  of  Indians.  Renewing  his  precautions,  sleep- 
ing in  hollow  logs  and  dense  thickets,  preferring  to 
go  hungry  rather  than  fire  his  gun,  and  setting  blind 
trails  as  before,  he  journeyed  painfully  on,  his  cloth- 
ing in  tatters,  his  body  bleeding  from  the  wounds  of 
thorn  and  bramble,  his  feet  bruised  and  aching. 
Not  until  the  third  day  after  his  departure  did  he 
have  a  real  meal,  when  at  one  of  the  Blue  Licks  he 
ventured  to  shoot  a  buffalo.  The  evening  of  the 
fourth  day,  or  the  morning  of  the  fifth,  the  exact 
time  being  uncertain,  he  staggered  into  Boones- 
borough,  where  he  was  welcomed  as  one  risen  from 
the  dead. 

While  he  was  in  captivity  many  of  the  settlers, 
despairing  of  receiving  aid  from  Virginia,  and  losing 
all  confidence  in  their  ability  to  hold  Kentucky 
unaided,  had  returned  to  the  settlements  east  of  the 
mountains.  Among  these  was  Mrs.  Boone,  who  had 
given  him  up  for  lost,  and  taking  their  family  with  her, 
had  gone  to  her  father's  home  on  the  Yadkin,  trav- 
elling by  pack-horses  over  the  Wilderness  Road. 
Of  all  Boone's  kinsfolk  there  were  only  two  to  greet 
him,  his  brother  Squire  and  his  daughter  Jemima, 
who  had,  as  we  know,  become  the  wife  of  Flanders 
Callaway.  The  latter  was  still  at  Boonesborough, 
together  with   his   father   Richard    Callaway,    John 


Boone  among  the  Indians  209 

Kennedy,  John  Holder,  and  others  of  the  original 
settlers.  But  the  entire  population  of  that  station 
was  less  than  a  hundred,  of  whom  barely  a  third 
were  men  of  "fighting  age";  and  the  defences  were 
in  great  need  of  strengthening  and  repair. 

Boone,  exhausted  though  he  was  by  the  hardships 
of  his  flight,  promptly  took  upon  himself  the  task  of 
preparing  to  meet  the  expected  attack.  He  de- 
spatched an  express  rider  to  the  Holston  settlements 
in  southwestern  Virginia,  with  an  urgent  appeal  for 
reenforcements ;  set  men  to  work  on  the  fortifications ; 
and  sent  out  scouts  to  report  the  coming  of  the  foe. 
To  his  great  rehef  it  soon  became  evident  that,  hav- 
ing failed  to  recapture  him,  the  Indians  had  either 
entirely  abandoned  their  project  or  had  postponed 
it  to  a  later  day,  when  they  might  again  hope  to  take 
the  settlers  unawares. 

The  arrival  of  his  trusted  comrade-at-arms,  Simon 
Kenton,  with  news  of  the  taking  of  the  Northwest 
posts  made  his  heart  still  lighter,  and  aroused  a 
lively  hope  that  the  settlers'  days  of  tribulation  would 
soon  be  at  an  end.  But  this  hope  was  dissipated 
almost  immediately  when  Stephen  Hancock,  one  of 
the  salt-makers  who  had  been  taken  prisoner  with 
Boone,  escaped  to  Boonesborough  and  reported  that, 
in  response  to  the  insistent  demands  of  Governor 
Hamilton,  Black  Fish  was  once  more  assembling  his 
warriors  for  a  blow  against  the  "rebels  of  Kentuck." 


210     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

In  order  to  obtain  confirmation  of  Hancock's 
story,  and  if  possible  alarm  Black  Fish  into  again 
desisting  from  an  attack,  Boone  determined  to  carry 
the  war  into  the  enemy's  country.  About  the  middle 
of  August  he  marched  from  the  fort  at  the  head  of  a 
scouting  party  of  nineteen  sharpshooters,  —  includ- 
ing Kenton,  Hancock,  and  Holder,  —  crossed  the 
Ohio,  and  penetrated  to  within  a  short  distance  of 
Chillicothe.  Near  Paint  Creek,  a  branch  of  the 
Scioto,  he  fell  in  with  a  war-party  of  thirty  Shawnees, 
marching  to  join  the  main  body  which,  as  Boone  had 
already  learned,  was  even  then  on  its  way  to  Kentucky. 
Although  outnumbered  he  promptly  ordered  his  men 
to  charge,  and,  after  a  brief  skirmish,  put  the  Indians 
to  flight  and  captured  their  horses  and  baggage. 

Wisely  enough,  however,  instead  of  attempting  to 
follow  up  his  victory,  he  began  a  rapid  march  back 
to  Boonesborough,  evaded  the  Indian  army,  and 
reached  the  fort  barely  two  hours  before  the  enemy 
encamped  opposite  it  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Ken- 
tucky. It  was,  as  his  biographer,  Dr.  Peck,  has 
said,  an  exceedingly  "gallant  and  heroic  affair  for 
twenty  men  to  march  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
into  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country,  surprise  and 
defeat  thirty  warriors,  and  then  effect  a  successful 
retreat  in  the  face  of  a  foe  twenty  times  more  nu- 
merous than  their  own  force." 

Had  he  not  got  back  to  Boonesborough  in  safety 


Boone  among  the  Indians  2ii 

there  could  have  been  no  hope  for  that  place.  As  it 
was,  even  the  stout-hearted  Boone  acknowledged 
that  the  outlook  was  of  the  gloomiest.  There  were 
but  fifty  men  and  boys  in  the  fort  fit  to  bear  arms, 
and  even  counting  the  women,  who  rendered  noble 
assistance  in  the  defence,  the  total  fighting  force  did 
not  exceed  seventy-five.  Against  this,  Black  Fish 
brought  the  largest  army  that  had  yet  threatened  the 
Kentucky  settlements. 

It  included  upwards  of  four  hundred  Indians, 
mostly  of  the  war-loving  Shawnee  tribe,  and  a  com- 
pany of  Canadians,  commanded  by  Lieutenant 
De  Quindre,  of  the  Detroit  militia.  Without  ex- 
ception the  minor  chieftains  were,  Hke  Black  Fish, 
veterans  of  many  fights.  One  was  Black  Bird, 
called  by  Governor  Henry  of  Virginia  "the  great 
chief  of  the  Chippewas,"  who  shortly  afterwards 
changed  his  allegiance  from  the  British  to  the  Ameri- 
can side.  Another  was  Black  Hoof,  who  had  been 
conspicuous  in  Braddock's  defeat.  A  third  was 
Moluntha,  known  to  the  Kentuckians  as  one  of  their 
most  implacable  enemies.  None,  it  is  true,  was  of 
the  caliber  of  a  King  Philip,  a  Pontiac,  or  a  Tecumseh, 
but  all  were  warriors  to  be  dreaded. 

It  was  just  before  sunset  of  Sept.  6  that  Boone 
and  his  scouts  galloped  hastily  through  the  gate  of  the 
Boonesborough  stockade,  and  in  the  ensuing  dusk  of 
twilight   the   defenders   could    see   the   plumed    and 


212     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

painted  forms  of  the  Indians  moving  through  the 
trees  and  bushes  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river. 
We  may  feel  sure  that  there  was  little  sleep  for  any 
one  in  the  fort  that  night.  But  morning  dawned 
without  the  expected  attack,  revealing  the  Indians, 
however,  among  a  thick  covert  of  undergrowth  only 
a  few  hundred  feet  from  Boonesborough.  They 
had  marched  down  the  Kentucky,  crossed  it  at  a 
point  still  called  "Black  Fish  Ford,"  cHmbed  the 
steep  southern  bank,  and  drawn  near  to  the  fort 
under  cover  of  the  darkness. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  they  hoped  to  gain  a 
bloodless  victory.  A  Canadian  carrying  a  flag  of 
truce  advanced  into  the  open  space  in  front  of  Boones- 
borough, announced  himself  the  bearer  of  a  letter 
from  Governor  Hamilton,  and  called  on  the  garrison 
to  send  commissioners  to  discuss  its  contents  with 
delegates  from  the  invading  army.  Delighted  at  the 
prospect  of  gaining  time  which  might  permit  the 
arrival  of  the  reenforcements  expected  from  Vir- 
ginia, the  settlers  readily  consented,  naming  Boone, 
the  elder  Callaway,  and  William  Bailey  Smith  as  their 
commissioners.  For  the  enemy,  De  Quindre,  Black 
Fish,  and  Moluntha  advanced  to  meet  them,  bring- 
ing as  a  token  of  good  faith  a  present  of  some  roasted 
buffalo  tongues. 

Now  began  a  series  of  negotiations  without  parallel 
in  border  warfare.     Hamilton's  letter,  it  appeared, 


Boone  among  the  Indians  213 

demanded  the  surrender  of  Boonesborough  on  terms 
which  both  the  governor  and  the  Indian  chieftains 
evidently  thought  too  tempting  to  be  rejected,  for 
Black  Fish  informed  Boone  that  "he  had  come  to 
take  the  people  away  comfortably,  and  had  brought 
along  forty  horses  for  the  old  folks,  the  women,  and 
the  children  to  ride."  With  great  gravity  Boone 
replied  that  he  would  have  to  consult  the  settlers 
before  returning  a  reply,  and  asked  for  a  two  days' 
truce,  which  was  readily  granted. 

The  two  days  were  spent  by  the  garrison  not  in 
debating  Hamilton's  offer,  but  in  preparing  for  a 
vigorous  resistance.  While  the  Indians  smoked, 
chatted,  and  lolled  about  in  full  view  of  the  fort,  the 
whites  brought  in  their  cattle,  which  had  been  graz- 
ing near  the  stockade,  put  their  rifles  in  perfect  con- 
dition, and  laid  in  a  large  supply  of  water  from  a 
near-by  spring.^  Then,  on  the  expiration  of  the  truce, 
they  defiantly  announced  through  Boone  that  they 
had  "determined  to  defend  the  fort  while  a  man 
was  living.*' 

1  Prudent  in  most  things,  the  early  settlers  of  Kentucky  were 
inexplicably  careless  with  respect  to  the  important  matter  of  having 
a  protected  source  of  drinking  water.  With  few  exceptions  they 
sank  no  wells  within  their  stockades,  but  were  dependent  on 
springs  in  the  open.  During  the  Indian  wars  this  resulted  in  dis- 
aster on  more  than  one  occasion.  Once,  as  we  shall  see,  it  gave 
opportunity  for  an  almost  incredible  act  of  heroism  by  pioneer 


women. 


214     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Still  the  invading  army  refrained  from  hostilities. 
De  Quindre,  acting  as  their  spokesman,  replied  that 
they  were  under  instructions  from  Hamilton  to  avoid 
bloodshed,  and  declared  that  if  the  settlers  would 
only  sign  a  treaty  swearing  allegiance  to  the  British 
cause,  the  Indians  would  be  withdrawn  and  they 
be  left  in  peaceable  possession  of  their  fort. 

"Send  out  nine  representatives,"  said  he,  "with 
full  powers  to  act  for  the  whole,  and  things  can  be 
speedily  adjusted." 

It  was  a  proposal  that  smacked  of  treachery,  but 
the  settlers,  still  anxious  to  gain  time,  accepted  it. 
Early  the  next  morning,  under  the  great  elm  that  had 
witnessed  the  signing  of  the  Transylvania  Compact, 
Boone,  Richard  and  Flanders  Callaway,  and  six 
other  settlers  met  De  Quindre,  Black  Fish,  Black 
Bird,  Black  Hoof,  and  Moluntha  to  consider  the 
terms  of  the  proposed  treaty. 

Around  them,  although  at  a  considerable  distance, 
the  Indian  army  squatted  on  the  ground,  smoking 
and  impassively  watching  the  proceedings.  In  the 
fort,  under  strict  orders  from  Boone,  sharpshooters 
peered  through  the  port-holes,  ready,  should  they 
receive  a  prearranged  signal,  to  pour  a  volley  into 
the  Indians.  As  a  further  precaution  every  woman 
and  child  in  Boonesborough  made  a  showing  at  the 
pickets  to  deceive  the  enemy  as  to  the  garrison's 
strength. 


Boone  among  the  Indians  215 

The  whole  day  was  spent  in  "pow-wowing"  and 
feasting,  and  by  nightfall  the  nine  commissioners 
had  promised  to  sign  next  morning  a  treaty  which 
would  result  in  raising  the  British  flag  above  the  back- 
woods fort.  Again  every  precaution  was  taken  to 
prevent  a  surprise.  At  Boone's  demand  the  com- 
missioners of  both  parties  went  to  the  meeting-place 
unarmed.  But  there  was  no  indication  that  the 
Indians  really  meditated  treachery  until,  after  the 
treaty  had  been  formally  signed.  Black  Fish  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  quietly  observed  :  — ■ 

"  Brothers,  to  confirm  this  treaty  we  must  have  a 
hand-shake  all  round,  two  braves  to  each  white 
brother." 

At  his  words  eighteen  stalwart  young  Indians 
strode  towards  the  nine  commissioners,  extended 
their  hands  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  then,  getting 
a  firm  grasp,  attempted  to  drag  the  whites  away. 
But  the  latter  were  too  quick  for  them,  each  freeing 
himself  by  a  dexterous  movement  and  springing  aside, 
while  Boone  gave  the  signal  to  the  sharpshooters,  who 
answered  with  a  leaden  hail  that  for  a  moment 
checked  pursuit. 

Running  at  utmost  speed,  the  settlers  made  for  the 
fort,  bullets  whistling  after  them  as  they  fled.  Only 
two  were  struck,  neither  being  fatally  wounded,  and 
before  the  Indians  could  rally  from  the  sharpshooters' 
attack  eight  of  the  nine  were  out  of  harm's  way  be- 


2i6     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

hind  the  stockade,  which  the  ninth  also  managed  to 
reach  at  night-fall  after  having  lain  concealed  in  the 
underbrush  all  day. 

There  followed  a  siege,  bitter,  vindictive,  and 
prosecuted  by  the  Indians  with  a  pertinacity  vastly 
different  from  their  customary  method  of  making  war. 
But,  as  usual,  they  first  resorted  to  strategy  to  gain 
a  victory.  Throughout  the  afternoon  the  settlers 
could  plainly  hear  sounds  that  indicated  they  were 
breaking  camp,  and  the  next  morning,  while  it  was 
still  dark,  the  splashing  and  clattering  of  horses  as 
the  crossed  the  river.  Bugle  calls  by  the  Canadians 
resounded  through  the  neighboring  hills,  growing 
fainter  and  fainter  until  they  could  no  more  be  heard. 
But  all  the  time,  stealthily  and  noiselessly,  the  Indians 
were  recrossing  the  Kentucky  and  hiding  themselves 
along  the  trail  that  led  from  the  stockade  gate. 

It  was  a  well-laid  plan,  but  quite  futile,  for  the  Ken- 
tuckians  had  expected  that  some  such  scheme  would 
be  hatched  by  their  crafty  foe,  and  not  one  of  them 
ventured  forth.  By  noon,  realizing  that  the  strata- 
gem had  failed,  the  Indians  once  more  drew  near 
Boonesborough,  and  raked  it  with  a  fire  which  did 
little  damage  because  the  covert  in  which  they  kept 
hidden  was  almost  out  of  rifle-range.  Creeping  still 
nearer,  protecting  themselves  behind  trees,  stumps, 
logs,  and  hillocks,  they  directed  their  bullets  against 
every  port-hole  and  crevice   in   the  stockade;   while 


Boone  among  the  Indians  217 

the  settlers,  of  necessity  sparing  of  their  ammunition, 
held  their  fire  until  they  were  sure  of  making  every 
bullet  count. 

Among  the  Indians  was  a  runaway  negro,  an  expert 
shot,  who  climbed  a  tree  overlooking  the  stockade 
with  the  intention  of  picking  off  any  settler  that 
might  chance  to  pass  within  range  of  his  rifle.  But 
he  had  fired  only  two  or  three  shots  when  his  position 
was  detected,  and  a  well-aimed  bullet,  said  to  have 
been  discharged  by  Boone  himself,  brought  the  negro 
crashing  to  the  ground,  from  which  he  rose  no  more. 
As  was  always  the  case,  the  Kentuckians  were  far 
better  marksmen  than  the  Indians,  but  the  latter 
were  so  adept  in  concealment  that  it  was  extremely 
difficult  to  get  a  good  shot  at  them. 

Victory  for  the  invaders  could  not  have  been  long 
delayed  had  De  Quindre  been  able  to  spur  his  tawny 
army  to  make  a  charge.  Finding  this  impossible,  he 
set  a  squad  at  work  digging  a  mine  which  would  en- 
able them  either  to  blow  up  the  fort  or  force  an  en- 
trance into  it.  Meantime  an  incessant  firing  was 
kept  up  to  mask  this  movement.  But  an  eagle-eyed 
settler,  noticing  a  broad,  muddy  streak  in  the  Ken- 
tucky, jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  caused  by 
dirt  being  thrown  from  an  excavation  beneath  the 
river-bank;  and  Boone,  who  was  in  full  charge  of  the 
defence,  at  once  started  a  countermine  that  would 
cut  into  and  expose  the  enemy's  tunnel. 


21 8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

More  than  once  an  attempt  was  made  to  burn  the 
garrison  out  by  hurling  fire-brands  on  the  cabin  roofs, 
but  the  flames  were  quickly  extinguished  by  brave 
volunteers,  and  drenching  rains  soon  rendered  this 
device  useless.  Still,  there  was  imminent  danger 
that  the  defenders  would  be  overcome  by  sheer  hunger 
and  fatigue.  For  ten  weary  days  and  nights  the 
Indians  encircled  the  fort,  while  night  and  day  the 
surroundino-  hills  echoed  with  their  tauntino-  cries 
and  the  spiteful  cracking  of  their  rifles.  Within  its 
smoke-choked  enclosure,  their  eyes  reddened,  their 
faces  drawn  and  powder-grimed,  the  settlers  stood 
doggedly  at  their  posts,  the  women  as  well  as  the 
men  constantly  on  the  alert  to  repel  a  charge  or  detect 
any  new  stratagem.  As  Ranck,  the  historian  of 
Boonesborough,  has  well  said  :  — 

"Even  in  this,  the  season  of  their  greatest  ex- 
tremity, there  was  no  thought  of  surrender.  Encom- 
passed overwhelmingly  by  the  savage  power  of  Eng- 
land, cut  off"  from  the  world  in  the  depths  of  a  solitude 
vast  and  obscure,  forgotten  by  the  overburdened 
Continental  Congress,  unaided  by  hard-pressed  Vir- 
ginia, worn  out  by  privations  and  sorely  tempted, 
the  feeble  little  handful  of  *  rebels'  at  Boonesborough 
were  true  to  the  last  to  the  principles  of  the  Revolu- 
tion and  suff'ered  as  nobly  for  freedom  and  for  coun- 
try as  did  the  men  of  Bunker  Hill  or  the  shivering 
heroes  of  Valley  Forge. " 


Boone  among  the  Indians  219 

September  18,  after  a  night  of  constant  rain,  day 
dawned  without  a  renewal  of  the  gun-fire  that  had 
for  so  long  a  time  heralded  sunrise.  Not  a  sound 
came  from  the  besiegers'  camp.  To  Boone  and  his 
comrades  the  silence  seemed  ominous,  and  hastily 
snatching  a  slender  breakfast,  they  redoubled  their 
precautions  to  meet  some  unexpected  move.  But 
as  the  hours  passed  and  the  silence  remained  un- 
broken, the  hope  began  to  grow  in  their  hearts  that 
the  Indians  had  raised  the  siege.  One  after  another, 
wary  scouts  slipped  out  of  the  stockade,  to  hurry  back 
at  noon  with  the  joyful  news  that  the  enemy  had 
actually  departed  and  were  well  on  their  way  to  the 
Ohio. 

The  cause  of  their  retreat  was  then  ascertained. 
During  the  night,  or  the  previous  day,  the  big  tunnel 
which  they  had  been  so  laboriously  constructing  had 
caved  in;  and,  never  liking  manual  labor,  it  was 
evident  that  the  Indians  had  refused  to  begin  work 
on  it  anew,  and,  disgusted  with  their  repeated  failures 
to  take  the  fort,  had  determined  to  return  home. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  De  Quindre  and 
the  Canadians,  the  red  men  would  in  all  proba- 
bility have  reached  this  decision  long  before,  for  per- 
sistency in  attack  has  never  been  an  Indian  charac- 
teristic. But  that,  on  this  occasion,  they  had  exerted 
themselves  to  the  utmost  to  beat  down  the  stubborn 
defence  they  encountered,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that 


220     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

after  their  departure  Boone  and  his  men  picked  up  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds  of  flattened  bullets 
which  had  been  fired  at  the  stockade;  while  it  was 
estimated  that  a  hundred  pounds  more  had  been 
lodged  in  the  stout  walls  of  a  single  blockhouse. 

Despite  this  extravagant  expenditure  of  ammuni- 
tion the  casualties  within  the  fort  had  been  amazingly- 
small  —  only  two  men  killed  and  four  wounded. 
The  Indian  loss  was  far  heavier,  owing  to  the  superior 
marksmanship  of  the  whites,  and  included,  accord- 
ing to  an  estimate  by  Boone,  thirty-seven  killed  and 
probably  twice  as  many  wounded.  It  had  been  a 
signal  victory,  the  more  memorable  because  it 
marked  the  last  attempt  of  the  savages  to  capture 
Boonesborough. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  THE  WAR 

ONE  week  after  the  departure  of  the  Indians,  a 
company  of  militiamen  arrived  from  Virginia, 
the  reenforcement  whose  tardy  coming  had 
placed  the  settlers  in  such  great  peril.  Boone,  feel- 
ing that  the  fort  was  now  in  no  immediate  danger  of 
attack,  was  anxious  to  start  east  at  once  for  the  pur- 
pose of  bringing  back  his  family.  But  ere  he  could 
do  so,  he  was  called  upon  to  answer,  before  a  court- 
martial  at  Logan's  Fort,  a  series  of  sensational  and 
most  unjust  charges. 

His  accuser  was  none  other  than  his  old  friend 
Richard  Callaway,  who  had  been  steadily  opposed 
to  the  pohcy  of  negotiating  with  the  invaders.  In 
his  charges  Callaway  specifically  asserted :  — 

First,  that  Boone  had  unnecessarily  surrendered 
the  salt-makers  at  the  Blue  Lick. 

Second,  that  when  a  prisoner  he  engaged  with 
Governor  Hamilton  to  surrender  the  people  of 
Boonesborough,  who  were  to  be  removed  to  Detroit 
and  hve  under  British  protection  and  jurisdiction. 

Third,    that   having   returned    from    captivity    he 

221 


222     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

encouraged  a  party  of  settlers  to  accompany  him  on 
an  expedition  into  the  Indian  country,  thereby 
weakening  the  garrison  at  a  time  when  the  arrival  of 
an  Indian  army  was  daily  expected. 

Fourth,  that  preceding  the  attack  on  Boonesbor- 
ough,  he  was  willing  to  take  the  officers  of  the  fort, 
on  pretence  of  making  peace,  to  the  Indian  camp, 
beyond  the  protection  of  the  guns  of  the  garrison. 

In  effect,  Callaway  practically  accused  Boone  of 
treason,  an  accusation  which  the  vast  majority  of 
the  settlers  knew  to  be  ridiculous,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that,  after  having  heard  his  spirited  defence, 
the  court  martial  not  only  honorably  acquitted  him, 
but  advanced  him  to  the  rank  of  major.  A  few  weeks 
later  he  was  journeying  rapidly  along  the  Wilder- 
ness Road,  —  his  own  road,  as  he  might  proudly  have 
boasted,  —  eager  to  carry  to  his  wife  the  glad  assur- 
ance that  he  was  still  among  the  living. 

More  than  a  year  passed  before  he  returned  to  Ken- 
tucky, which  in  the  meanwhile,  thanks  to  the  confi- 
dence inspired  by  George  Rogers  Clark's  victories, 
began  to  increase  rapidly  in  population.  New  sta- 
tions and  forts  were  established  in  the  country  around 
Boonesborough,  and  on  tributary  streams  both  north 
and  south  of  the  Kentucky,  among  the  most  promi- 
nent being  Bryan's  Station,  on  the  North  Fork  of  the 
Elkhorn;  Bowman's,  six  miles  east  of  Harrods- 
town;     Estill's,  on  Muddy  Creek;    Ruddle's,  on  the 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  223 

South  Licking;  Martin's,  five  miles  from  Ruddle's; 
Hart's,  or  White  Oak  Spring  Station,  on  the  Ken- 
tucky, a  mile  north  of  Boonesborough;  Hoy's  and 
Irvine's,  to  the  south  of  Boonesborough;  Grant's, 
five  miles  northeast  of  Bryan's;  Harlan's,  on  Salt 
River;  and  Dutch  Station,  on  Beargrass  Creek.  Dur- 
ing the  same  period  (1779-81)  the  foundations  v^ere 
laid  of  Lexington,  v^hile  Boonesborough,  by  an  act 
of  the  Virginia  Legislature,  was  elevated  to  the  dignity 
of  a  tov^n,  and  Kentucky  v^as  divided  into  three 
counties  —  Jefferson,  Lincoln,  and  Fayette  —  each 
v^ith  its  own  administrative  officials. 

All  this  activity  in  the  way  of  settlement  was  bit- 
terly if  ineffectively  opposed  by  the  Indians.  There 
were  frequent  raids  and  counter-raids,  in  which  the 
settlers  suffered  severely.  In  1779,  after  Boone's 
departure  for  the  Yadkin,  Bowman  and  Logan 
headed  an  expedition  against  ChiUicothe,  but  were 
outfought  by  the  Shawnees  and  compelled  to  retreat 
with  a  loss  of  nine  killed  and  many  more  wounded. 
The  following  year,  as  an  act  of  reprisal,  a  British 
ofl&cer,  Colonel  Byrd,  brought  a  mixed  force  of 
Canadians  and  Indians  into  Kentucky,  supported 
by  six  pieces  of  artillery,  captured  Ruddle's  and 
Martin's  stations,  and  returned  to  Detroit  with  three 
hundred  prisoners,  many  of  whom  were  cruelly  tor- 
tured by  the  savages.  George  Rogers  Clark,  then 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Western  forces,  in  return 


224     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

promptly  organized  an  expedition  against  the  Ind- 
ian town  of  Pickaway,  which  he  destroyed  after  a 
severe  engagement  that  cost  him  the  lives  of  seven- 
teen men. 

It  was,  however,  through  the  marauding  of  indi- 
vidual Indians,  or  small  war-parties  of  ten  to  twenty, 
that  the  American  loss  was  heaviest,  and  the  diffi- 
culties of  settlement  were  most  keenly  felt.  At  any 
moment,  returning  from  his  day's  labors  in  the  field, 
the  settler  might  be  laid  low  by  a  bullet  fired  from 
ambush;  or,  if  he  reached  home  in  safety,  might 
find  his  cabin  in  ashes,  with  the  mutilated  corpses 
of  his  wife  and  children  among  the  ruins.  Many 
stories  are  told  illustrative  of  the  dangers  that  daily 
threatened  the  bold  pioneers,  the  sufferings  they  en- 
dured, and  the  sacrifices  they  were  obliged  to  make. 
Others  afford  a  vivid  idea  of  the  unfailing  courage, 
hardihood,  and  resourcefulness  they  displayed,  no 
matter  how  great  their  peril.  I  quote  one  from  John 
A.  McClung's  "Sketches  of  Western  Adventure," 
an  old  work  which,  although  not  entirely  trustworthy, 
is  invaluable  for  the  light  it  throws  on  the  conditions 
attending  the  settlement  and  conquest  of  the  early 
West. 

"In  the  spring  of  1780,"  writes  McClung,  "Alex- 
ander McConnel,  of  Lexington,  went  into  the  woods 
on  foot,  to  hunt  deer.  He  soon  killed  a  large  buck, 
and  returned  home  for  a  horse,  in  order  to  bring  it 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  225 

in.  During  his  absence  a  party  of  live  Indians,  on 
one  of  their  usual  skulking  expeditions,  accidentally 
stumbled  on  the  body  of  the  deer,  and  perceiving 
that  it  had  been  recently  killed,  they  naturally  sup- 
posed that  the  hunter  would  speedily  return  to  secure 
the  flesh. 

"Three  of  them,  therefore,  took  their  stations 
within  close  rifle-shot  of  the  deer,  while  the  other  two 
followed  the  trail  of  the  hunter  and  waylaid  the  path 
by  which  he  was  expected  to  return.  McConnel, 
expecting  no  danger,  rode  carelessly  along  the  path, 
which  the  two  scouts  were  watching,  until  he  had 
come  within  view  of  the  deer,  when  he  was  fired  upon 
by  the  whole  party  and  his  horse  killed.  While 
laboring  to  extricate  himself  from  the  dying  animal, 
he  was  seized  by  his  enemies,  instantly  overpowered, 
and  borne  ofF  a  prisoner. 

"His  captors,  however,  seemed  to  be  a  merry, 
good-natured  set  of  fellows,  and  permitted  him  to 
accompany  them  unbound;  and,  what  was  rather 
extraordinary,  allowed  him  to  retain  his  gun  and 
hunting  accoutrements.  He  accompanied  them  with 
great  apparent  cheerfulness  during  the  day,  and  dis- 
played his  dexterity  in  shooting  deer  for  the  use  of 
the  company,  until  they  began  to  regard  him  with 
great  partiality. 

"Having  travelled  with  them  in  this  manner  for 
several  days,  they  at  length  reached  the  banks  of  the 


226     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Ohio  River.  Heretofore  the  Indians  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  bind  him  at  night,  although  not  very 
securely;  but  on  that  evening  he  remonstrated  v^ith 
them,  and  complained  so  strongly  of  the  pain  v^hich 
the  cords  gave  him  that  they  merely  wrapped  the 
buffalo  tug  loosely  around  his  wrists,  and  having 
tied  it  in  an  easy  knot  and  attached  the  extremities 
of  the  rope  to  their  own  bodies,  in  order  to  prevent 
his  moving  without  awakening  them,  they  very  com- 
posedly went  to  sleep,  leaving  the  prisoner  to  follow 
their  example  or  not  as  he  pleased. 

"McConnel  determined  to  effect  his  escape  that 
night  if  possible,  as  on  the  following  night  they  would 
cross  the  river,  which  would  make  it  much  more 
difficult.  He  therefore  lay  quietly  until  near  mid- 
night, anxiously  ruminating  upon  the  best  means  of 
effecting  his  escape.  Accidentally  casting  his  eyes 
in  the  direction  of  his  feet,  they  fell  upon  the  glitter- 
ing blade  of  a  knife  which  had  escaped  its  sheath 
and  was  now  lying  near  the  feet  of  one  of  the  Indians. 

*'To  reach  it  with  his  hands  without  disturbing 
the  two  Indians  to  whom  he  was  fastened  was  im- 
possible, and  it  was  very  hazardous  to  attempt  to 
draw  it  up  with  his  feet.  This,  how^ever,  he  at- 
tempted. With  much  difficulty  he  grasped  the  blade 
between  his  toes,  and  after  repeated  and  long-con- 
tinued efforts,  succeeded  in  bringing  it  within  reach 
of  his  hands. 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  227 

"To  cut  his  cords  was  then  but  the  work  of  a 
moment,  and  gradually  and  silently  extricating  his 
person  from  the  arms  of  the  Indians  he  walked  to 
the  fire  and  sat  down.  He  saw  that  his  work  was 
but  half  done;  that  if  he  should  attempt  to  return 
home  without  destroying  his  enemies,  he  would  as- 
suredly be  pursued  and  probably  overtaken,  when 
his  fate  would  be  certain.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
seemed  almost  impossible  for  a  single  man  to  succeed 
in  a  conflict  with  five  Indians.  He  could  not  hope 
to  deal  a  blow  with  his  knife  so  silently  and  fatally 
as  to  destroy  each  one  of  his  enemies  in  turn  without 
awakening  the  rest.  Their  slumbers  were  prover- 
bially light  and  restless;  and  if  he  failed  with  a  single 
one,  he  must  instantly  be  overpowered  by  the  sur- 
vivors.    The  knife,  therefore,  was  out  of  the  question. 

"After  anxious  reflection  for  a  few  minutes,  he 
formed  his  plan.  The  guns  of  the  Indians  were 
stacked  near  the  fire;  their  knives  and  tomahawks 
were  in  sheaths  by  their  sides.  The  latter  he  dared 
not  touch  for  fear  of  awakening  their  owners;  but 
the  former  he  carefully  removed,  with  the  exception 
of  two,  and  hid  them  in  the  woods,  where  he  knew  the 
Indians  would  not  readily  find  them.  He  then  re- 
turned to  the  spot  where  the  Indians  were  still  sleep- 
ing, perfectly  ignorant  of  the  fate  preparing  for  them, 
and  taking  a  gun  in  each  hand  he  rested  the  muzzles 
upon  a  log  within  six  feet  of  his  victims,  and  having 


228     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

taken  deliberate  aim  at  the  head  of  one  and  the 
heart  of  another,  pulled  both  triggers  at  the  same 
moment. 

"  Both  shots  were  fatal.  At  the  report  of  the  guns 
the  others  sprang  to  their  feet  and  stared  wildly 
around  them.  McConnel  who  had  run  instantly 
to  the  spot  where  the  other  rifles  were  hid,  hastily 
seized  one  of  them  and  fired  at  two  of  his  enemies, 
who  happened  to  stand  in  a  line  with  each  other. 
The  nearest  fell  dead,  being  shot  through  the  body; 
the  second  fell  also,  bellowing  loudly,  but  quickly 
recovering,  limped  off  into  the  woods  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. The  fifth,  and  only  one  who  remained  unhurt, 
darted  off  like  a  deer,  with  a  yell  which  announced 
equal  terror  and  astonishment.  McConnel,  not 
wishing  to  fight  any  more  such  battles,  selected 
his  own  rifle  from  the  stack  and  made  the  best  of 
his  way  to  Lexington,  where  he  arrived  safely  within 
two  days. 

"Shortly  afterwards,  Mrs.  Dunlap,  of  Fayette 
County,  who  had  been  several  months  a  prisoner 
amongst  the  Indians  on  Mad  River,  made  her  escape 
and  returned  to  Lexington.  She  reported  that  the 
survivor  returned  to  his  tribe  with  a  lamentable  tale. 
He  related  that  they  had  taken  a  young  hunter  near 
Lexington,  and  had  brought  him  safely  as  far  as  the 
Ohio;  that  while  encamped  upon  the  bank  of  the 
river,  a  large  parry  of  white  men  had  fallen  upon 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  229 

them  in  the  night,  and  killed  all  his  companions,  to- 
gether with  the  poor  defenceless  prisoner,  who  lay 
bound  hand  and  foot,  unable  either  to  escape  or 
resist." 

The  feat  of  shooting  two  Indians  with  a  single 
bullet  was,  it  seems,  duplicated  by  our  hero,  Daniel 
Boone.  According  to  the  story,  Boone,  soon  after 
his  return  to  Kentucky  with  his  wife  and  children, 
was  making  a  solitary  journey  to  the  upper  Blue  Lick 
when,  on  the  brow  of  a  little  hill  descending  to  a 
broad  creek,  a  rifle-ball  whistled  past  his  ear  and 
scaled  a  piece  of  bark  from  a  tree  against  which  he 
had  been  leaning. 

Quick  as  thought  he  bounded  down  the  hill,  leaped 
into  the  creek,  waded  across,  and,  taking  advantage 
of  the  cover  afforded  by  a  thick  cane-brake,  crept 
noiselessly  through  it,  along  the  bank  of  the  creek, 
until  he  had  gone  about  a  hundred  yards  down 
stream.  Then  he  stealthily  parted  the  cane  and 
peered  out,  to  behold  two  Indians  cautiously  approach- 
ing the  opposite  bank. 

Aiming  his  rifle  at  the  foremost,  he  was  astonished 
and  deHghted  to  see  the  other  also  come  within  range. 
As  he  did  so,  Boone  fired,  his  bullet  passing  through 
the  head  of  the  first  and  lodging  in  the  second's 
shoulder.  The  Indian  who  had  been  struck  in  the 
head  fell  dead  without  a  groan;  while  the  second, 
with  a  howl  of  pain  and  terror,  dropped  his  gun  and 


230     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

fled  through  the  forest,  leaving  Boone  to  continue 
his  journey  undisturbed. 

In  those  dread  times  not  only  the  men  but  also  the 
women,  and  even  young  girls,  wxre  inspired  to  deeds 
of  the  greatest  courage  and  heroism.  Here  is  a  story 
told  by  McClung,  which  may  not  be  altogether  accu- 
rate in  detail,  but  which  graphically  and  forcefully 
depicts  the  spirit  displayed  by  the  mothers  of  the 
early  West  in  the  perilous  days  of  its  first  settlement : 

"One  summer  the  house  of  John  Merril,  of  Nelson 
County,  was  attacked  by  the  Indians,  and  defended 
with  singular  address  and  good  fortune.  Merril 
was  alarmed  by  the  barking  of  a  dog  about  midnight, 
and  upon  opening  the  door  in  order  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  the  disturbance,  he  received  the  fire  of  six 
or  seven  Indians,  by  which  his  arm  and  thigh  were 
both  broken.  He  instantly  sank  upon  the  floor  and 
called  upon  his  wife  to  close  the  door. 

"This  had  scarcely  been  done,  when  it  was  vio- 
lently assailed  by  the  tomahawks  of  the  enemy  and 
a  large  breach  soon  effected.  Mrs.  Merril,  however, 
being  a  perfect  Amazon  both  in  strength  and  courage, 
guarded  it  with  an  axe,  and  successively  killed  or 
badly  wounded  four  of  the  enemy  as  they  attempted 
to  force  their  way  into  the  cabin. 

"The  Indians  then  ascended  the  roof  and  at- 
tempted to  enter  by  way  of  the  chimney,  but  here 
again  they  were  met  by  the  same  determined  enemy. 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  231 

Mrs.  Merrll  seized  the  only  feather-bed  which  the 
cabin  afforded,  and  hastily  ripping  it  open,  poured 
its  contents  upon  the  fire.  A  furious  blaze  and 
stifling  smoke  instantly  ascended  the  chimney,  and 
brought  down  two  of  the  enemy,  who  lay  for  a  few 
moments  at  her  mercy. 

"Seizing  the  axe,  she  quickly  despatched  them,  and 
was  instantly  afterwards  summoned  to  the  door, 
where  the  only  remaining  savage  now  appeared  en- 
deavoring to  effect  an  entrance  while  Mrs.  Merril  was 
engaged  at  the  chimney.  He  soon  received  a  gash 
in  the  cheek,  which  compelled  him,  with  a  loud  yell, 
to  reHnquish  his  purpose  and  return  hastily  to  Chil- 
licothe,  where,  from  the  report  of  a  prisoner,  he  gave 
an  exaggerated  account  of  the  fierceness,  strength, 
and  courage  of  the  *  long-knife  squaw.'" 

But  the  dauntless  bravery  of  the  women  of  the 
West  was  never  manifested  more  impressively  than 
at  the  siege  of  Bryan's  Station,  a  siege  the  more 
memorable  because  of  its  disastrous  sequel  at  the 
lower  Blue  Lick,  when  the  settlers  of  Kentucky,  in 
a  battle  with  the  Indians,  sustained  the  severest  loss 
in  all  their  stormy  history. 

Bryan's  Station  was  founded  in  1779  by  four 
brothers  of  that  name  from  North  Carolina,  the 
oldest  of  whom,  William  Bryan,  had  married  a  sister 
of  Daniel  Boone's.  It  stood,  as  was  said  above,  on 
the  North  Fork  of  the  Elkhorn,  and  was  most  advan- 


232     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

tageously  situated  on  the  sloping  southern  bank, 
about  five  miles  northeast  of  Lexington.  Like  all 
of  the  early  settlements  of  any  importance,  it  con- 
sisted of  a  group  of  log-cabins  arranged  in  a  hollow 
square,  connected  with  one  another  by  a  high  stock- 
ade, and  further  protected  by  overhanging  block- 
houses at  the  corners  of  the  stockade.  It  was  the 
largest  station  in  Kentucky  and  considered  one  of  the 
strongest. 

The  Bryans,  however,  did  not  occupy  it  long. 
Early  in  1780  it  was  decided  by  a  land-court  that  the 
land  on  which  they  had  built  their  station  was  within 
the  limits  of  a  survey  made  in  1774  for  WiUiam  Pres- 
ton, a  Virginian,  who  had  already  traded  it  off  to 
Joseph  Rogers,  also  a  resident  of  Virginia.  With 
a  carelessness  common  to  the  first  settlers,  the  Bryans 
had  failed  to  make  sure  that  the  site  they  selected 
had  not  been  preempted,  and  although  neither 
Preston  nor  Rogers  had  done  anything  to  improve 
the  land,  they  were  ordered  to  vacate. 

Stubborn  and  strong-willed  men  that  they  were, 
they  might  have  chosen  to  defy  the  decision  of  the 
court,  had  it  not  been  for  Byrd's  expedition  and  the 
death  of  William  Bryan,  who  was  slain  by  the  Ind- 
ians in  May  of  1780.  The  ease  with  which  Byrd 
captured  Ruddle's  and  Martin's  stations,  the  cruel- 
ties practised  on  the  prisoners,  and  the  killing  of  their 
brother,  convinced  them  that  it  was  scarcely  worth 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  233 

while  to  attempt  to  hold  a  home  which  was  not 
legally  theirs  and  from  which,  even  if  they  fought  off 
the  Indians,  they  were  certain  to  be  ousted  as  soon 
as  peace  was  estabhshed.  During  the  summer, 
therefore,  they  journeyed  back  to  North  Carolina 
over  the  Wilderness  Road,  never  to  return  to  the 
station  they  had  founded  and  with  which  their  name 
became  permanently  associated. 

In  their  stead  now  came  a  company  of  settlers 
from  Virginia,  whose  numbers  were  increased  by 
later  immigration  until,  by  midsummer  of  1782, 
there  were  twelve  families  at  the  station,  besides 
twenty-five  or  thirty  men  —  scouts,  hunters,  and 
surveyors  —  who  made  it  their  headquarters.  Thus 
far  it  had  been  little  troubled  by  the  Indians,  who, 
indeed,  had  been  comparatively  quiet  since  Clark's 
successful  invasion  of  their  country  two  years  before. 
But,  at  sunset  of  Aug.  15,  a  messenger  galloped  up 
with  news  that  the  men  of  Holder's  Station  had  been 
surprised  and  defeated  by  a  large  force  of  Indians 
at  the  upper  Blue  Lick,  and  that  aid  was  needed  from 
all  the  stations  to  hunt  down  the  savages.  The 
plan  was,  the  messenger  said,  to  rendezvous  at 
Hoy's  next  day  and  thence  march  in  search  of  the 
Indians. 

No  one  suspected  the  true  strength  or  immediate 
object  of  this  latest  army  of  invasion.  It  was  part 
of  a  large  expedition  organized  in  the  spring  by  a 


234     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

British  officer,  Captain  WiUiam  Caldwell,  for  the 
purpose  of  destroying  the  West  Virginia  settlement 
of  WheeHng.  When  near  Wheeling,  runners  brought 
word  to  Caldwell  that  Clark  was  collecting  an  army 
for  another  raid  on  the  Indian  towns,  and  the  con- 
templated attack  on  WheeHng  was  at  once  abandoned, 
the  Indians  hurrying  back  to  defend  their  homes, 
which  they  found  were  in  no  danger  whatever,  as 
Clark  had  not  crossed  the  Ohio  and  had  no  inten- 
tion of  doing  so.  It  was  then  too  late  to  hope  to 
surprise  WheeHng,  but  Caldwell,  rather  than  return 
to  Detroit  without  striking  a  blow,  proposed  to  his 
alHes  to  march  with  him  into  Kentucky.  More  than 
half  of  them  refused,  but  the  remainder  —  some 
five  or  six  hundred,  and  including  three  hundred 
Wyandots,  a  tribe  fiercer  even  than  the  Shawnees 
—  gave  their  consent. 

A  tradition,  long  accepted  by  Kentucky  historians 
and  still  repeated  by  many  writers,  although  with 
more  or  less  hesitancy,  declares  that  Caldwell  would 
have  failed  to  induce  the  Indians  to  take  up  his  Ken- 
tucky enterprise,  had  it  not  been  for  a  fiery  speech  by 
Simon  Girty,  who  urged  them  to  rise  "in  the  majesty 
of  their  might*'  and  destroy  the  whites  whom  Girty 
himself  had  so  basely  deserted.  However  this  may 
be,  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  to  Girty 
rather  than  to  Caldwell  that  the  Indians  looked  for 
leadership,  and  that  his  mind  rather  than  CaldwelFs 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  235 

conceived  the  plan  of  campaign  which,  while  partially 
defeated,  ultimately  brought  the  savages  a  greater 
victory  than  they  could  possibly  have  anticipated. 

Boonesborough  had  by  that  time  become  too 
thickly  surrounded  by  other  settlements  to  be  easily 
captured,  but  Bryan's  Station,  being  somewhat  iso- 
lated, offered  a  tempting  prey.  To  make  assurance 
doubly  sure,  some  of  the  Indians  were  sent  to  Hoy's 
Station,  with  the  idea  both  of  concealing  their  real 
destination  and.  If  possible,  of  enticing  the  different 
garrisons  to  a  point  remote  from  that  at  which  they 
intended  to  strike.  It  was  these  Indians  whom 
Holder's  men  had  encountered,  and  in  pursuit  of 
whom  the  settlers  were  to  start  next  day.  Mean- 
time, while  the  men  of  Bryan's  were  making  hurried 
preparations  for  departure,  Caldwell  and  GIrty  and 
their  blood-thirsty  followers  were  silently  closing  in 
on  them. 

Sunrise  of  Aug.  16  found  the  station  completely 
hemmed  in  by  the  Indians,  not  one  of  whom,  how- 
ever, was  visible  from  the  stockade.  Girty,  of 
course,  was  unaware  that  the  garrison  intended  leav- 
ing for  Hoy's.  Had  he  known  this,  he  need  only  have 
awaited  their  going  in  order  to  have  made  certain  of 
an  easy  victory.  As  it  was,  he  devised  a  cunning 
scheme  that  promised  almost  equally  well. 

At  his  orders  the  main  body  of  the  Indians  re- 
mained concealed  in  the  weeds,  long  grass,  and  grow- 


236     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

ing  corn  between  the  rear  of  the  station  and  the 
river,  while  a  small  company  was  posted  among  the 
trees  along  the  broad  trail  that  led  to  the  front  gate 
of  the  stockade,  the  intention  being  that  they  should 
keep  hidden  until  daylight  when  they  were  boldly 
to  show  themselves.  It  was  expected  that  the  set- 
tlers would  immediately  rush  out  to  attack  them, 
upon  which  they  were  to  retreat  rapidly  along  the 
trail,  shouting  and  firing  as  they  ran  to  drown  the 
noise  made  by  their  comrades,  who  would  at  the  same 
time  leap  from  their  hiding-places  and  storm  the 
station  from  the  rear. 

A  few  years  earlier  this  plan  would  undoubtedly 
have  been  effective.  But  the  Kentuckians  had 
learned  much  from  bitter  experience,  and  among 
the  inhabitants  of  Bryan's  Station  were  veterans  who 
instantly  penetrated  the  crafty  device.  Instead  of 
sallying  forth  in  response  to  the  Indians'  demonstra- 
tion, the  gate  of  the  stockade  was  firmly  barred,  and 
orders  were  given  for  every  man  to  arm  himself  and 
prepare  to  repel  any  attack  that  might  be  made  from 
behind. 

More  than  this,  a  counter-plot  was  formed,  cal- 
culated to  inflict  tremendous  damage  on  the  Indians. 
Ten  or  twelve  volunteers  were  to  be  sent  out  to  attack 
the  company  on  the  trail,  while  the  rest,  posted  at  the 
port-holes,  were  to  reserve  their  fire  until  the  Indians 
among  the  undergrowth  hurled  themselves  against 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  237 

the  stockade,  when  they  were  to  be  given  a  volley 
that  would  greatly  thin  their  ranks  and  send  the  sur- 
vivors scurrying  back  to  cover. 

Now,  however,  an  alarming  discovery  was  made  — 
the  station  was  without  a  drop  of  water.  Its  sole 
source  of  supply  was  a  spring  at  the  foot  of  the  slope 
leading  down  to  the  river,  and  located  among  the 
trees  and  grass  where  the  Indians  were  in  ambush. 
Yet  without  water  it  would  be  impossible  to  endure 
the  siege  which  the  invaders  were  certain  to  estab- 
lish in  case  they  failed  to  carry  the  day  by  a  single 
blow. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  women  of  Bryan's 
Station  proved  themselves  the  bravest  and  noblest 
of  heroines.  While  all  was  confusion  and  anxiety; 
while,  in  excited  whispers,  the  men  were  consulting 
together,  Mrs.  Jemima  Sugget  Johnson,  the  wife  of 
Colonel  Robert  Johnson  and  mother  of  Colonel 
Richard  M.  Johnson,  —  afterwards  a  hero  of  the 
battle  of  the  Thames  and  Vice-president  of  the 
United  States,  but  then  a  tiny  infant  slumbering  in  a 
rough-hewed  cradle,  —  quietly  stepped  forward  and 
offered  to  conduct  a  party  of  women  and  girls  to 
the  Indian-surrounded  spring. 

Every  morning,  she  reminded  her  astonished 
hearers,  it  was  the  custom  of  the  women  to  go  to  the 
spring  and  procure  the  day's  supply  of  drinking  water. 
There  was  just  a  chance  that  the  Indians  in    their 


238     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

eagerness  to  surprise  the  garrison,  would  not  molest 
them  if  they  went  out  as  usual.  At  any  rate  she  was 
ready  to  go,  and  she  was  sure  that  her  daughter 
Betsey,  a  little  girl  of  ten,  would  accompany  her,  even 
if  nobody  else  would. 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation  while  the  women 
gazed  inquiringly  into  one  another's  faces.  Then, 
one  after  the  other,  they  announced  their  wilHngness 
to  make  the  desperate  attempt.  The  men  would  have 
dissuaded  them  had  they  not  realized  that  this  was 
the  only  possible  means  by  which  the  all-essential 
water  could  be  obtained.  Buckets,  piggins,  noggins,^ 
gourds,  — every  utensil  capable  of  holding  water,  — 
were  hastily  brought  together,  the  rear  gate  of  the 
stockade  was  thrown  open,  and  the  women  and  girls, 
twenty-eight  in  all,  set  out  on  their  perilous  journey. 

Along  the  narrow  trail  that  wound  down  the  hill 
to  the  spring,  they  leisurely  made  their  way,  laughing 
and  chatting  as  though  in  entire  ignorance  of  the 
danger  threatening  them.  As  they  approached  the 
undergrowth  they  could  distinctly  see,  gleaming  in 
the  light  of  the  morning  sun,  the  glint  of  the  Indians' 
rifle-barrels;  and,  here  and  there,  a  waving  plume, 
a  Hthe,  brown  arm,  and  the  glare  of  a  savage  eye. 
Not  for  an  instant  did  they  falter,  but,  advancing 

^  A  piggin  was  a  small  wooden  bucket  with  one  upright  stave  for 
a  handle;  a  noggin  was  a  small. wooden  bucket  with  two  upright 
staves  for  handles. 


i-%-'%i\' 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  239 

with  apparent  unconcern,  dipped  their  buckets  and 
gourds,  their  piggins  and  noggins,  into  the  spring, 
and  returned  to  the  station  at  the  same  leisurely  gait. 
It  was  a  consummate  piece  of  acting,  a  marvellous 
exhibition  of  self-control,  and  it  completely  deceived 
the  Indians,  who,  intent  on  executing  their  original 
plan,  permitted  them  to  go  and  come  unharmed. 

With  their  safe  return  the  defenders  of  Bryan's 
Station  hastened  into  action.  While  most  of  them 
stationed  themselves  at  the  port-holes  overlooking  the 
hill  in  the  rear,  the  volunteers  who  were  to  engage  the 
Indians  on  the  trail  dashed  out,  firing  and  shouting; 
making,  in  fact,  such  a  tremendous  noise  that  Girty 
felt  certain  his  scheme  had  succeeded  and  that  the 
entire  garrison  had  left  the  station.  Delaying  no 
longer,  he  signalled  to  his  followers  to  charge. 

Out  of  the  cornfield,  out  of  the  weeds  and  the  grass, 
sprang  the  Indians,  leaping  like  panthers  up  the 
long  hill,  whooping  and  hallooing,  and  bearing  in 
their  midst  the  flaming  torch,  dread  instrument  of 
the  destruction  that  would  ensue  if  they  broke 
through  the  stockade.  At  their  head  raced  Mo- 
luntha,  supreme  in  the  leadership  of  the  Shawnees 
since  the  death  of  Black  Fish,  who  had  fallen  in 
battle  not  long  after  his  futile  siege  of  Boonesbor- 
ough ;  close  behind  Moluntha  came  a  stalwart  Wyan- 
dot chieftain,  wierdly  streaked  with  war-paint.  Nor 
was  Girty  outdistanced  in  the  wild  dash  up  the  hill. 


240     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Nearing  the  station,  the  entire  mass  of  Indians  con- 
verged towards  the  stockade  gate.  On  they  came, 
rapidly  on,  while  the  settlers,  silent  as  death,  grimly 
set  heir  lips  and  waited.  Still  nearer  they  came. 
Then,  at  a  hoarse  word  of  command,  a  deadly  volley 
flashed  from  every  port-hole.  Casting  their  rifles 
aside,  and  snatching  others  from  the  hands  of  their 
wives  and  daughters,  the  settlers  fired  again. 
Through  the  smoke  could  be  heard  howls  of  amaze- 
ment, wrath,  and  pain;  and  when  the  air  had 
cleared,  not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen  save  those  who 
had  been  laid  low  by  the  garrison's  bullets. 

Still,  even  before  they  broke  and  fled,  some  had 
contrived  to  toss  their  torches  over  the  stockade, 
and  the  crackling  of  flames  from  half  a  dozen  cabins 
warned  the  settlers  that  they  were  menaced  by  a  new 
peril.  To  the  women  and  boys  was  given  the  task 
of  quenching  the  blaze,  while  the  men,  now  reen- 
forced  by  the  volunteers  from  the  trail,  who  had 
successfully  regained  the  station,  reloaded  and 
awaited  a  second  charge. 

But  there  was  no  second  charge,  the  Indians  choos- 
ing rather  to  adopt  their  usual  tactics  of  assailing 
the  settlement  with  bullets  and  fire-arrows  launched 
from  cover.  More  than  once  a  cabin-roof  was  set 
on  fire,  but  the  flames  were  quickly  beaten  out. 
Thus  the  morning  passed.  Early  in  the  afternoon, 
to  the  chagrin  of  the  savages,  a  small  party  of  horse- 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  241 

men,  summoned  from  Lexington  by  a  messenger 
who  had  left  Bryan's  Station  before  the  engagement 
began,  forced  their  way  through  the  Indians'  h'nes 
and  entered  the  station  without  the  loss  of  a  single 
man.  Their  arrival  not  merely  strengthened  the 
garrison,  but  brought  the  siege  to  a  sudden  end; 
for,  realizing  that  the  entire  countryside  would 
soon  be  aroused,  the  Indians,  after  continuing  their 
attack  until  nightfall,  started  in  full  retreat  to  the 
Ohio. 

Next  day  three  different  relief  parties,  each  about 
fifty  strong,  arrived  from  Boonesborough,  Lexington, 
and    Harrodstown.     Among    them    were    many    of 
the  best-known  men  in  Kentucky.     Foremost  of  all, 
of  course,  was  Boone,  burning  to  avenge  the  death 
of  his  brother  Edward,  who  had  been  killed  during 
an  earher  Indian  invasion.     With   Boone  came  his 
oldest  living  son,  Israel,  grown  to  be  a  fine,  stalwart 
young    fellow    of   twenty-three.     John    Todd,    who 
will  be  remembered  as  one  of  the  first  settlers  and 
a  member  of  the  short-lived  Transylvania  House  of 
Delegates,  commanded  the  troops  from  Lexington, 
and    associated    with    him    was    his    brother    Levi! 
The  Harrodstown  contingent  was  led    by    Stephen 
Trigg,  who,    although    a   resident  of  Kentucky  for 
only  three  years,   had  won   an   enviable  reputation 
for  daring   and    courage;  and  it    also  included   the 
fiery   Hugh   McGary,   Silas   Harlan,    a  tried   leader 


242     Daniel    Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

of  men,  and  William  McBride,  a  redoubtable  Ind- 
ian fighter. 

In  addition  to  these  three  companies,  it  was  known 
that  Benjamin  Logan  was  raising  troops  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Logan's  Fort.  But,  at  a  council 
of  war  held  in  Bryan's  Station,  it  was  decided  not 
to  wait  for  Logan,  as,  in  case  he  should  be  delayed, 
the  enemy  would  be  sure  to  escape  scot-free.  There 
were  some  who  pointed  out  that,  even  including  the 
garrison  of  Bryan's,  the  total  force  then  available 
was  far  less  than  that  of  the  Indians;  but  the  ma- 
jority were  in  favor  of  hastening  after  them,  and, 
on  Aug.  18,  the  pursuit  was  begun,  the  Kentuckians 
marching  in  three  divisions  commanded  respectively 
by  Boone,  Trigg,  and  Levi  Todd,  while  John  Todd, 
as  the  senior  militia  officer  present,  acted  as  com- 
mander-in-chief. 

The  route  taken  by  the  Indians  was  soon  ascer- 
tained, and,  pressing  forward  with  great  rapidity, 
the  settlers  by  noon  came  to  the  place  where  the 
enemy  had  encamped  the  previous  night.  This  was  on 
the  bank  of  Hinkston  Creek,  near  the  site  of  Millers- 
burg.  Thence  the  trail  led  to  the  lower  Blue  Lick, 
which  was  reached  early  in  the  morning  of  the  nine- 
teenth. All  along  the  way,  however,  were  signs 
indicating  to  the  experienced  veterans  in  the  little 
army  that  the  Indians  were  courting  rather  than 
evading   pursuit;     and   before   fording   the    Licking 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  243 

another  council  of  war  was  called,  at  which  Boone 
declared  that  it  would  be  madness  to  proceed  with- 
out Logan's  reenforcements,  as  the  enemy  were 
almost  certainly  setting  a  trap.  This  wise  counsel 
might  have  been  heeded  had  not  McGary,  with 
a  taunting  cry,  spurred  his  horse  into  the  river, 
swinging  his  rifle  above  his  head,  and  exclaiming:  — 

"Delay  is  dastardly  !  Let  all  who  are  not  cowards 
follow  me ! " 

With  excited  shouts  the  Kentuckians  plunged  in, 
helter  skelter,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  their 
officers  reformed  them  into  companies  on  the  op- 
posite bank. 

Here  the  trail  ran  up  a  broad  ridge,  rocky  and 
barren,  but  with  timber-filled  ravines  extending  down 
from  both  sides  of  the  ridge.  Among  the  trees  of 
these  ravines  the  Indians  lay  in  perfect  concealment 
until  the  pursuers  had  reached  a  point  where  they 
were  completely  exposed  to  a  cross-fire.  Then,  at  a 
prearranged  signal,  a  few  scattering  shots  rang  out, 
followed  by  a  furious  fusillade. 

Flinging  their  rifles  away,  the  Wyandots,  with 
a  fury  that  appalled  even  the  stout-hearted  Ken- 
tuckians, charged  into  the  open,  tomahawk  in  hand, 
to  grapple  like  demons  with  those  who  had  survived 
the  carnage  of  the  first  attack.  For  a  few  minutes, 
fighting  shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  settlers  stood  their 
ground.     But,    raked    by    a    galling    fire    from    the 


244     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Shawnees,  who  now  advanced  at  the  double,  they 
gradually  gave  way,  and  then,  pressed  still  harder, 
broke  into  a  mad  flight. 

It  could  scarcely  be  called  a  battle,  so  quickly  was 
it  at  an  end.  Rather  it  was  a  massacre,  a  butchery, 
a  pitiless  hewing  down.  All  who,  escaping  the  toma- 
hawk, plunged  headlong  to  the  river  and  sought 
safety  by  swimming,  found  themselves  assailed  by 
a  hail  of  bullets.  Among  the  first  to  fall,  after  the 
retreat  became  general,  was  young  Israel  Boone, 
fatally  wounded.  His  father,  fighting  manfully  up 
to  that  moment,  hurled  his  rifle  aside  with  a  groan 
of  despair,  lifted  his  son  from  the  ground,  and,  stagger- 
ing under  the  burden,  leaped  down  the  rocky  slope. 
But  ere  he  reached  the  other  side  of  the  river  the  boy 
was  beyond  human  aid,  and  Boone  himself  with 
difficulty  escaped  the  vengeful  Indians  scouring  the 
forest  in  quest  of  fugitives. 

Of  the  army  that  had  so  gallantly,  though  reck- 
lessly, responded  to  McGary's  challenging  appeal, 
nearly  seventy  were  left  dead  on  the  field,  while 
four  were  carried  off  to  the  Indian  towns  and  tor- 
tured to  death.  The  commander-in-chief,  JohnTodd, 
was  among  the  slain,  as  were  Trigg,  Harlan,  and 
McBride.  The  mortality  among  the  officers  was, 
indeed,  remarkably  high,  only  seven  escaping,  and 
these  with  more  or  less  severe  wounds.  To  add  to 
the   bitterness   of  the   defeat,    as   the   survivors   ap- 


The  Last  Years  of  the  War  245 

proached  Bryan's  Station  they  were  met  by  Logan 
with  an  army  of  almost  five  hundred  men,  a  force 
which,  in  conjunction  with  their  own,  would  have 
overwhelmed  the  enemy  had  they  only  heeded  Boone's 
warning. 

It  was  then  too  late  to  do  anything  but  bury  the 
dead,  as,  on  advancing  rapidly,  Logan  found  that 
the  Indians  had  crossed  the  Ohio  immediately  after 
the  battle,  and  were  secure  in  the  tangled  fastnesses 
of  their  own  country.  But  from  all  over  Kentucky 
rose  a  loud  and  insistent  demand  for  vengeance. 
The  Indians  must  be  punished  as  they  had  never 
been  before.  Late  in  October,  therefore,  in  response 
to  a  call  from  George  Rogers  Clark,  a  thousand 
mounted  riflemen  came  together  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Licking,  and  from  the  site  of  Cincinnati  marched 
through  the  Ohio  forests  to  the  Indian  towns  on  the 
Little  Miami. 

The  red  men,  taken  wholly  by  surprise,  fled  with- 
out offering  the  shghtest  resistance,  leavmg  the 
Kentuckians  free  to  ravage  and  destroy  at  will. 
No  fewer  than  five  towns  in  the  region  where  Girty's 
army  had  assembled  in  August  were  put  to  the  torch, 
and  immense  stores  of  grain  and  dried  meats  were 
destroyed,  thus  entailing  great  suffering  among  the 
Shawnees  throughout  the   approaching  winter. 

It  was,  however,  the  one  and  only  sure  means  of 
protecting    Kentucky.     Overcome    by    the    severity 


246     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

of  the  blow,  and  further  weakened  by  the  withdrawal 
of  British  support  as  a  result  of  the  ending  of  the 
Revolution,  the  Indians  never  again  invaded  Ken- 
tucky in  force.  They  did,  it  is  true,  for  some  years 
maintain  an  irregular  warfare,  small  parties  making 
incursions  among  the  settlements  or  waylaying  trav- 
ellers down  the  Ohio  River  and  along  the  Wilder- 
ness Road.  But  no  longer  were  they  the  constant 
menace  they  had  been  ever  since  that  fateful  day, 
more  than  six  years  before,  when  Boonesborough 
was  first  besieged. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PIONEERING   IN   WATAUGA 

THRILLING  events  had  meanwhile  been  in 
progress  at  the  other  end  of  the  Wilderness 
Road,  in  the  Watauga  country,  where,  as  we 
have  seen,  James  Robertson  and  John  Sevier  had 
laid  the  foundations  of  the  present  State  of  Tennessee 
some  half-dozen  years  before  Kentucky  was  opened 
up  to  civilization.  For  more  than  a  decade  the  Wa- 
tauga settlers  were  exposed  to  a  succession  of  Indian 
wars  almost  as  severe  as  those  in  Kentucky;  through- 
out the  Revolution  they  were  harassed  not  only 
by  Indians,  but  even  by  men  of  their  own  blood, 
Americans  who  refused  to  adhere  to  the  movement 
for  Independence  and  fought  bitterly  to  reestabhsh 
British  domination ;  and  towards  the  close  of  the  great 
struggle  they  were  called  on  to  take  part  in  one  of  its 
most  memorable  battles,  the  battle  of  King's  Moun- 
tain. Yet  through  all  this  they  more  than  held  their 
own ;  progressing,  in  fact,  so  remarkably  that  before 
the  close  of  the  Revolution  they  were  able  to  under- 
take, by  way  of  the  Wilderness  Road,  a  coloniza- 
tion movement  that  extended  the  southwest  frontier 

247 


248     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

far  into  the  inland  wilds,  and  had  as  an  immediate 
result  the  founding  of  what  is  now  the  political  centre 
of  Tennessee,  the  city  of  Nashville. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution  the  Watauga 
settlements  had  a  total  population  of  about  six 
hundred,  but  up  to  that  time  had  been  leading  an 
absolutely  independent  existence  as  a  self-governing 
community  organized  according  to  the  Articles  of 
Association  described  in  our  fifth  chapter.  In  1776 
they  determined,  both  as  a  measure  of  self-defence 
and  as  a  means  of  testifying  their  loyalty  to  the 
Revolutionary  cause,  to  throw  in  their  fortunes  defi- 
nitely with  the  people  of  North  Carolina,  and  they 
therefore  petitioned  the  Provincial  Council  to  annex 
Watauga  to  North  Carolina  "in  such  manner  as  will 
enable  us  to  share  in  the  glorious  cause  of  Liberty, 
enforce  our  laws  under  authority,  and  in  every  respect 
become  the  best  members  of  society.''  The  petition 
was  granted,  and  Watauga  was  formally  annexed 
under  the  name  of  Washington  District,  being  after- 
wards subdivided  into  three  counties,  Washington, 
Sullivan,  and  Greene. 

The  change  of  government,  however,  affected  the 
life  of  the  settlers  but  little.  Beyond  forming  county 
organizations  and  enacting  a  few  special  laws  — 
such  as  a  pension  law  for  the  benefit  of  the  widows 
and  orphans  of  Wataugans  slain  in  the  service  of 
the  Revolution  —  North  Carolina  left  its  new  citizens 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  249 

pretty  much  to  their  own  devices.  They  still  had 
to  rely  almost  entirely  on  themselves,  they  were 
virtually  as  independent  as  before,  and  the  manage- 
ment of  affairs  remained  in  the  hands  of  those  who 
had  won  public  confidence  during  the  Association 
period. 

Preeminent  in  this  respect  were  Robertson, 
Sevier,  and  Evan  and  Isaac  Shelby,  each  of  whom 
might  not  ineptly  be  compared  to  a  Highland  chief- 
tain surrounded  by  a  hand  of  intensely  loyal  clans- 
men. Each  of  them,  too,  had  many  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  traditional  Highland  chieftain  — 
the  fiery  temper,  the  hot,  fighting  blood,  the  restless 
spirit,  the  great  muscular  strength,  the  marvellous 
power  of  endurance.  With  the  exception  of  Sevier, 
who  had  inherited  from  his  Huguenot  ancestors  a  rich 
fund  of  tact  and  courtesy,  they  were,  like  the  ancient 
Highlanders,  rough  and  uncouth.  But  they  were 
precisely  the  kind  of  leaders  best  qualified  to  inspire 
and  sustain  their  followers  through  the  dread  years 
of  merciless  carnage  that  marked  the  struggle  for 
independence   as   fought   beyond   the   mountains. 

Long  before  the  Indians  were  actually  upon  them 
they  made  their  preparations  for  defence.  It  was 
known  that  an  agent  of  the  British  was  actively 
intriguing  among  the  Cherokees,  and  that  the  war- 
belt  had  been  carried  to  them  by  emissaries  from  the 
Shawnees,   Delawares,   and  other   of  the    Northern 


250     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

tribes  already  ruthlessly  endeavoring  to  exterminate 
the  pioneers  of  Kentucky.  But  even  so,  the  first 
blow  struck  against  the  Wataugans  almost  caught 
them  unawares.  July  7,  1776,  an  Indian  woman, 
who  had  always  been  friendly  to  the  whites,  visited 
a  settler  named  Thomas  and  warned  him  that  a 
large  expedition  was  about  to  start  northward  with 
the  intention  of  destroying  all  the  settlements  up  to 
and  beyond  the  Virginia  line,  thus  opening  a  way 
for  later  expeditions  to  penetrate  into  the  western 
counties  of  Virginia  and  cooperate  with  the  British 
in  their  attempt  to  subjugate  the  Southern  States. 
Thomas,  as  may  be  imagined,  was  soon  on  his  way 
north,  spreading  this  dire  news. 

In  a  few  days  every  outlying  cabin  was  deserted, 
the  inhabitants  fleeing  for  protection  to  the  nearest 
forts.  Chief  among  these  were  Fort  Watauga, 
where  Robertson  and  Sevier  were  in  command,  and 
Fort  Eaton,  erected  at  the  suggestion  of  William 
Cocke,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  played  a 
gallant  role  in  the  founding  of  Kentucky,  but  had 
returned  east  shortly  after  Boonesborough  was  built. 
It  was  expected  that  Fort  Eaton  would  be  the  first 
attacked,  and  in  fact  a  strong  force  of  Cherokees 
soon  marched  against  it,  led  by  a  greatly  dreaded 
chieftain,  Dragging  Canoe  —  the  same  chieftain,  by 
the  way,  who  had  prophesied  to  Boone,  at  the  time 
of  the  Sycamore  Shoals  Treaty  in    1775,  that  the 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  251 

Kentuckians  would  find  it  hard  to  hold  the  land  they 
bought  from  the  Cherokees. 

Dragging  Canoe,  not  without  reason,  believed 
that  Fort  Eaton  was  almost  defenceless.  But  in  the 
ten  days  that  had  passed  since  the  settlers  received 
their  warning,  five  companies  of  militiamen  had 
been  rushed  to  that  fort  from  the  border  counties 
of  Virginia,  bringing  the  total  strength  of  the  garrison 
close  to  two  hundred.  Scouts  were  sent  out  daily 
to  watch  for  the  enemy's  approach,  and  when,  on 
July  20,  it  was  learned  that  the  Indian  army  was 
drawing  near  the  fort,  the  entire  garrison  marched  out 
to  give  battle. 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  they  fell  in  with  a  party 
of  twenty  Cherokees,  whom  they  easily  put  to  flight. 
But,  while  giving  instant  pursuit,  they  now  advanced 
with  the  greatest  caution,  fearing  that  this  vanguard 
of  the  enemy  might  be  merely  a  decoy  detachment 
sent  forward  to  lure  them  into  an  ambuscade.  Late 
in  the  afternoon,  having  seen  no  further  signs  of  the 
Indians,  and  believing  that  they  now  planned  a  night 
attack  on  the  fort,  orders  were  given  to  hurry  back. 
Only  a  few  minutes  more,  however,  and  their  rear 
was  unexpectedly  assailed  by  the  whole  of  Dragging 
Canoe's  force.  Evidently  a  trap  had  actually  been 
set,  and  though  the  garrison  had  failed  to  walk 
into  it  the  Cherokees  were  still  hopeful  of  over- 
whelming them.     And  at  first  it  looked,  in  truth, 


252     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

as  though  the  tragedy  at  the  Blue  Lick  would  be 
repeated. 

Emptying  their  rifles  in  one  withering  volley,  the 
Indians  did  not  wait  to  reload,  but  leaped  upon  the 
rear-guard  with  a  swiftness  that  gave  them  no  time 
either  to  seek  cover  or  form  for  battle.  Driven  ir- 
resistibly forward,  they  brought  confusion  into  the 
ranks  of  those  ahead.  But,  rallying,  the  settlers 
quickly  spread  out  in  two  long,  narrow  lines,  so  that 
they  could  not  be  outflanked,  and,  taking  sure  aim 
at  the  oncoming  horde  of  savages,  instantly  checked 
their  rush.^  A  fight  of  the  usual  backwoods  type 
followed,  both  sides  firing  at  each  other  from  behind 
trees;  and  in  the  end,  after  Dragging  Canoe  had 
fallen,  severely  wounded,  the  Indians  fled,  leaving 
thirteen  of  their  dead  to  be  scalped  by  the  victors. 

That  night,  according  to  ever  doubtful  tradition, 
an  express  rider  was  sent  to  carry  the  glad  tidings 
to  Robertson  and  Sevier  at  Fort  Watauga.  "A 
great  day's  work  in  the  woods!"  was  Sevier's  re- 
ported comment  when  the  news  reached  him. 

^  Tradition  has  been  exceedingly  busy  with  this  battle  in  the 
Tennessee  wilderness,  and  has  woven  about  it  many  romantic  but 
highly  improbable  tales.  According  to  one  often-repeated  story, 
the  prowess  of  Isaac  Shelby  and  four  other  backwoodsmen,  who 
held  the  Indians  in  check  while  their  comrades  were  forming  a  line 
of  battle,  alone  averted  a  terrible  disaster.  But  Shelby  was  on  a 
visit  to  Kentucky  at  this  time. 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  253 

But  it  was  out  of  the  question  for  him  to  attempt 
to  duplicate  the  achievement  of  the  men  from  Fort 
Eaton.  He  had  only  forty  men  to  oppose  to  the  far 
greater  force  hurled  against  Fort  Watauga  by  another 
powerful  chieftain,  Oconostota.  His  only  hope 
lay  in  exhausting  the  patience  of  the  savages  by 
maintaining  a  stubborn  defence  behind  the  stout 
paHsades,  and  this  he  did  to  such  good  effect  that  for 
nearly  three  weeks  the  Cherokees  were  held  at  bay. 
Then,  learning  that  Dragging  Canoe  had  abandoned 
the  siege  of  Fort  Eaton,  and  that  reenforcements 
were  coming  to  Sevier's  aid,  Oconostota,  baffled  and 
dispirited,  hurried  his  warriors  back  to  their  wigwam 
homes.  The  first  attempt  to  cleave  open  a  path  to 
Virginia  had  ended  in  disastrous  failure. 

Very  different  was  the  outcome  of  a  retaliatory 
expedition  undertaken  a  few  weeks  later  by  a  com- 
bined force  of  Virginians  and  Wataugans.  Its 
commander  was  Colonel  William  Christian,  a  Vir- 
ginian, while  Robertson  marched  at  the  head  of 
the  Watauga  troops  and  Sevier  led  the  advance  with 
a  picked  company  of  scouts.  Nearly  two  thousand 
men  took  part  in  this  expedition.  From  the  starting- 
point  on  the  Holston  there  was  incessant  skirmishing 
in  which  Sevier  and  his  scouts  acquitted  themselves 
with  the  greatest  credit.  Not  once,  however,  did 
the  Indians  venture  to  give  open  battle,  and  finally, 
appalled  by  the  danger  that  threatened  them,  they 


254     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

sent  a  messenger  with  a  flag  of  truce  to  sue  for 
peace. 

The  backwoods  army  had  by  that  time  reached 
the  border  of  the  Cherokee  country,  and  was  en- 
camped on  the  bank  of  the  French  Broad,  one  of 
the  upper  tributaries  of  the  Tennessee  River.  Chris- 
tian's reply  to  the  Cherokee  envoy  was  curt  and  to  the 
point.  He  had  come,  he  said,  to  destroy  the  Cherokee 
towns,  and  after  he  had  done  that,  not  before,  he 
would  talk  of  peace.  That  night,  leaving  half  his 
followers  in  camp,  he  forded  the  French  Broad  and 
made  a  rapid  march  to  surprise  the  Indians  in  their 
encampment.  But  they  had  expected  some  such 
move,  and  had  already  fled  to  their  doomed  villages. 

Thenceforward  no  opposition  whatever  was  offered 
to  the  advance  of  the  whites.  For  two  weeks  Chris- 
tian moved  from  village  to  village,  burning  their 
cabins  and  destroying  the  stores  of  grain  and  potatoes 
which  the  Indians  had  laid  in  to  carry  them  through 
the  winter.  Not  until  the  Cherokees  had  sur- 
rendered every  prisoner  they  had  taken,  and  every 
horse  they  had  stolen  from  the  settlements,  and  had 
agreed  to  pay  a  heavy  indemnity  in  land,  did  he 
accede  to  their  frantic  appeals  for  peace. 

There  were  many  warriors,  however,  who  took  no 
part  in  the  peace  negotiations.  Headed  by  the 
implacable  Dragging  Canoe,  they  fled  westward, 
to  form,  with  adventurous  members  of  the  Creek, 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  255 

Chickasaw,  and  other  Southwestern  tribes,  a  rude 
confederacy  banded  together  to  make  war  on  the 
white  man.  For  the  next  few  years  the  Watauga 
settlements  frequently  suffered  from  raids  by  these 
red  outlaws,  and  as  frequently  there  were  retahatory 
raids  that  resulted  in  a  constant  weakening  of  the 
Indians'  power.  In  this  work  no  one  was  more  con- 
spicuous than  Sevier,  who,  putting  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  body  of  mounted  riflemen,  repeatedly  har- 
ried the  Cherokees,  the  swiftness  of  his  movements 
rendering  it  possible  for  him  to  take  them  by  sur- 
prise and  escape  to  Watauga  before  a  strong  enough 
force  could  be  gathered  to  cut  him  off. 

On  one  occasion,  in  the  winter  of  1780-81,  he 
entered  the  Indian  country  with  fewer  than  three 
hundred  men,  laid  a  successful  ambuscade  for  a 
Cherokee  war-party,  and,  after  routing  it,  laid  waste 
several  towns,  burning  a  thousand  cabins  and  destroy- 
ing fifty  thousand  bushels  of  grain.  Two  months 
afterwards  he  led  a  still  smaller  force  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  through  a  wilderness  hitherto  un- 
trodden by  the  white  man,  to  burst  like  a  thunder- 
bolt upon  a  cluster  of  Indian  villages  in  the  hollows 
of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains,  burn  five  of  these 
villages,  kill  thirty  warriors,  and  return  unscathed 
to  his  home  on  the  Nohchucky.  To  Sevier's  daring 
forays,  more  than  to  any  other  single  cause,  must 
be  attributed  the  final  subjugation  of  the  Cherokees 


256     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  the  establishment  of  permanent  peace  in  east 
Tennessee. 

Yet  he  was  not  a  mere  "fighting  man,"  like  so 
many  of  the  border  notables.  He  was  a  born  leader 
of  men  in  peace  as  well  as  in  war,  and  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  which  occurred  in  1815,  he  remained  the 
foremost  figure  in  his  section  of  the  country.  When, 
after  the  Revolution,  east  Tennessee,  exasperated 
at  its  treatment  by  North  CaroHna,  attempted  to 
embark  on  its  own  account  as  the  independent  State 
of  FrankKn,  he  was  the  man  chosen  by  its  people 
to  direct  the  destinies  of  this  short-Hved  common- 
wealth. When  Tennessee  became  a  State,  it  was 
to  Sevier  that  the  Tennesseeans  turned  for  their  first 
governor,  and  he  is  recognized  by  Tennessee  his- 
torians as  one  of  the  best  governors  that  State  has 
had.  The  last  years  of  his  life  found  him  still  serving 
Tennessee,  as  one  of  its  representatives  in  Congress. 
Valiant,  courteous,  masterful,  and  true,  his  was 
assuredly  a   career  of  brilliant  achievement. 

But,  in  the  days  with  which  we  are  concerned, 
Sevier's  chief  claim  to  fame  was  based  on  his 
exploits  as  a  soldier.  It  was  a  time  of  almost  con- 
stant warfare,  not  only  with  the  Indian  but  also, 
as  was  said,  with  those  of  the  same  blood  as  the 
Wataugans,  for  there  was  a  numerous  Tory  element 
in  the  border  settlements  that  had  to  be  repressed 
with   a   stern  hand.     There  was,  moreover,  always 


John  Sevier 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  257 

the  danger  that,  in  the  event  of  British  success  in 
the  Southern  States,  Watauga  and  the  neighboring 
settlements  of  transmontane  Virginia  would  be  over- 
run by  invasion.  So  imminent  did  this  danger  at  one 
time  become  that,  to  avert  it,  the  borderers  organized 
an  expedition  that  took  them  far  from  their  homes 
and  culminated  in  a  victory  as  glorious  as  it  was 
astonishing. 

As  is  well  known,  the  year  1780  was,  from  the 
American  point  of  view,  the  most  disastrous  of  the 
entire  Revolution.  Even  Washington  "  almost  ceased 
to  hope."  It  was  marked  by  a  succession  of  British 
victories,  particularly  in  Georgia  and  the  CaroHnas, 
where  CornwalHs  and  his  able  lieutenants,  Rawdon, 
Tarleton,  and  Ferguson,  proved  more  than  a  match 
for  the  American  commanders  sent  against  them. 
After  the  conquest  of  the  seaboard  cities,  Cornwallis 
despatched  Tarleton  and  Ferguson  with  orders  to 
subdue  the  "back  counties''  and  organize  regiments 
of  loyal  inhabitants  —  the  hated  Tories  —  to  assist 
the  British  in  their  further  operations.  Both  officers 
executed  their  orders  with  alacrity,  thoroughness,  and 
unfailing  success,  until,  early  in  the  autumn,  Fer- 
guson found  his  westward  progress  opposed  by  the 
mountain  wall. 

He  then  learned,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  that 
beyond  the  mountains  were  a  few  scattered  settle- 
ments of  strong  "rebel"   tendencies,   and,  through 


258     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

a  prisoner  whom  he  released  on  parole,  he  imme- 
diately sent  word  that  if  the  mountaineers  did  not 
"desist  from  their  opposition  to  the  British  arms," 
he  would  march  his  army  over  the  mountains,  hang 
the  leaders,   and  lay  waste  the  country. 

So  far  from  alarming  the  Wataugans,  his  threat 
aroused  an  instant  determination  to  strike  him  before 
he  could  strike  them.  Within  a  few  days  more  than 
a  thousand  men  were  assembled  at  the  Sycamore 
Shoals  of  the  Watauga.  They  included  a  contingent 
of  five  hundred  from  the  Virginia  settlements,  under 
WilHam  Campbell,  a  famous  Indian  fighter  and 
implacable  in  his  hatred  of  the  British  and  their 
Tory  supporters;  two  hundred  and  forty  under 
Sevier;  a  like  number  under  Isaac  Shelby,  and  nearly 
two  hundred  refugees  who  had  fled  across  the  moun- 
tains after  a  vain  effort  to  check  Ferguson's  trium- 
phant march. 

Nearly  all  were  well  mounted,  and  all  were  armed 
in  regulation  backwoods  style  —  that  is  to  say,  with 
rifle,  tomahawk,  and  hunting-knife.  A  few,  though 
very  few,  of  the  officers  carried  swords.  Only  the 
lightest  baggage  was  taken  along,  the  hope  being 
to  make  a  rapid  passage  of  the  mountains  and  give 
Ferguson  no  time  to  prepare  a  strong  defence. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  before  setting  out,  on 
September  26,  1780,  this  rude,  rough,  undisciplined 
army  gathered  in  an  open  grove  to  listen  to  a  sermon 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  259 

preached  by  the  first  clergyman  to  settle  in  that  region, 
the  Rev.  Samuel  Doak,  who,  in  words  of  burning 
zeal,  exhorted  them  to  go  forth  and  smite  their  enemies 
with  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon. 

Three  days  later,  after  a  terrible  journey  over  what 
Shelby  afterwards  described  as  "the  worst  route  ever 
followed  by  an  army  of  horsemen,"  they  descended 
the  eastern  slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  not  far  from  the 
North  Fork  of  the  Catawba  in  North  Carolina,  and 
began  their  search  for  Ferguson,  who,  they  were 
told,  was  encamped  near  Gilbert  Town.  En  route 
they  elected  William  Campbell  commander-in-chief, 
and  received  reenforcements  that  brought  their 
total  strength  up  to  about  fifteen  hundred. 

This  was  more  than  Ferguson  could  muster,  for, 
not  expecting  to  be  attacked,  he  had  allowed  many 
of  his  Tory  recruits  to  go  home  on  furlough.  Wisely, 
therefore,  he  broke  camp  and  fled,  turning  and  twist- 
ing among  the  mountains  in  the  hope  of  baflSing 
pursuit.  But  he  soon  found  that  the  backwoodsmen 
were  not  to  be  shaken  off*,  and  when,  on  the  even- 
ing of  October  6,  he  crossed  into  South  Carolina, 
he  halted  his  army  on  the  stony  slope  of  King's 
Mountain,  just  south  of  the  North  Carolina  fine, 
and  made  ready  to  give  battle,  confident  that  he 
had  taken  a  position  from  which  "all  the  rebels  out- 
side of  hell,"  as  he  defiantly  put  it,  could  not  dis- 
lodge him. 


26o     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

It  was  noon  of  the  next  day  before  the  mountaineers 
were  informed  of  his  exact  location  by  two  Tories 
whom  they  captured.  By  that  time  their  number  had 
dwindled  to  less  than  a  thousand,  —  or  about  as  many 
as  Ferguson  had  with  him,  —  those  who  had  become 
too  exhausted  to  continue  the  pursuit  having  been 
weeded  out  a  couple  of  days  before.  According  to 
all  the  rules  of  warfare  it  was  madness  to  attack  a 
numerically  equal  force  situated  to  such  great  ad- 
vantage as  Ferguson's  men  were,  and  having  the 
further  advantage  of  being  armed  with  bayonets, 
while  not  a  backwoodsman  possessed  this  exceedingly 
useful  weapon.  But  the  men  in  buckskin  knew 
nothing  of,  and  cared  less  for,  the  rules  of  warfare, 
and  boldly  decided  to  push  ahead,  surround  Fergu- 
son, and  storm  his  position. 

As  they  marched  they  formed  their  army  for  the 
coming  battle.  The  right  centre  was  composed  of 
Campbell's  troops,  the  left  centre  of  Shelby's;  Sevier 
took  command  of  the  right  wing;  the  left  was  under 
the  command  of  Benjamin  Cleveland,  a  patriotic 
North  Carolinian  who  had  joined  with  three  hundred 
and  fifty  men.  When  close  to  King's  Mountain,  all 
dismounted  and  advanced  on  foot,  the  wings  spread- 
ing out  so  as  to  approach  the  British  camp  from 
opposite  sides.  The  orders  given  to  all  were  to  stand 
their  ground  as  long  as  possible,  but,  if  attacked  by 
the  bayonet,  to  give  way  and  then  rally  for  another 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  261 

charge.  So  swift  were  their  movements  that  they 
were  almost  upon  the  British  commander  before  he 
knew  of  their  presence. 

As  the  Americans  swarmed  up  the  hill,  Ferguson, 
who  was  to  prove  himself  a  second  Braddock  for 
bull-dog  grit,  ordered  his  troops  to  fix  bayonets  and 
charge  down  upon  them.  For  nearly  ten  minutes 
the  whole  burden  of  the  battle  fell  on  Campbell's 
and  Shelby's  men,  Sevier  and  Cleveland  being  de- 
layed in  getting  into  position.  Each  man,  in  back- 
woods fashion,  fought  for  himself,  making  use  of 
every  inch  of  cover.  So  incessant  was  the  rifle-fire 
that,  tradition  says,  "the  mountain  was  covered  with 
smoke  and  flame,  and  seemed  to  thunder."  Fer- 
guson's advancing  column,  massed  in  close  formation, 
suffered  fearfully.  Still  they  kept  on,  and  before 
the  resistless  pressure  of  the  bayonets  the  American 
centre  was  shattered  and  driven  back. 

Now,  from  points  higher  up  the  mountain,  the  two 
wings  attacked  the  British.  Ferguson,  undaunted, 
turned  his  bayonets  against  these  new  foes.  As  he 
did  so,  Campbell  and  Shelby  again  brought  their 
men  into  action.  Bewildered,  the  bayonet  men 
charged  to  and  fro,  the  Americans  invariably  fleeing 
before  them,  but  returning  to  the  assault  the  instant 
pursuit  ceased. 

Every  moment  the  defenders'  ranks  became  thin- 
ner, while  the  agile  and  hardy  backwoodsmen,  quick 


262     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

of  foot  and  skilled  in  the  tactics  of  forest  warfare, 
sustained  comparatively  httle  loss.  Ferguson,  realiz- 
ing that  the  battle  was  going  against  him,  hurled 
his  men  forward  again  and  again,  in  a  vain  effort 
to  turn  the  tide  and  snatch  victory  from  defeat. 
With  reckless  bravery  he  rode  along  the  lines,  waving 
a  sword  and  imploring  his  followers  not  to  let  the 
"rebels"  rout  them.  Two  horses  were  killed  under 
him,  but  with  the  same  desperate  valor  he  continued 
to  lead  the  bayonet  charges  until  at  last,  as  he  galloped 
full  speed  against  Sevier's  Wataugans,  their  fire  was 
concentrated  upon  him,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground 
pierced  by  half  a  dozen  bullets. 

Ten  minutes  afterwards  the  Americans  gained 
the  crest  of  the  ridge  where  the  British  camp  stood. 
The  end  could  not  be  long  delayed.  Huddled  in 
a  confused  mass  among  their  tents  and  baggage- 
wagons  the  broken  remnants  of  Ferguson's  army 
despairingly  hoisted  the  white  flag.  Many  of  the 
backwoodsmen  did  not  know  what  it  meant;  others 
deliberately  disregarded  it,  until  Campbell,  rushing 
among  them  with  his  sword  pointed  to  the  ground, 
called  upon  them  in  God's  name  to  cease  firing. 

Ignored  or  slighted  by  many  historians,  this  was 
in  reality  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of  the  Revolution. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  ruined  the  Southern  campaign 
of  the  British,  compelling  Cornwallis  to  abandon  his 
plan  for  the  conquest  of  North  CaroHna,  and  spurring 


Pioneering  in  Watauga  263 

the  patriots  of  the  South  to  a  renewed  activity  that 
bore  abundant  fruit  the  following  year.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  insured  the  safety  not  simply  of  the 
Watauga  settlements,  but  of  the  settlements  planted 
by  Boone  and  his  comrades  in  faraway  Kentucky. 

Had  Ferguson  been  able  to  cross  the  mountains 
and  carry  out  his  threat  of  ravaging  Watauga,  the 
one  obstacle  to  Indian  invasion  of  Kentucky  from 
the  south  would  have  been  removed;  the  Cherokee 
and  the  Creek,  sweeping  westward  along  the  Wil- 
derness Road,  could  have  united  with  the  northern 
tribes  to  hem  in  the  Blue  Grass  settlers;  cut  off  com- 
pletely from  reenforcements  and  supplies,  the  people 
of  Kentucky  must  inevitably  have  perished,  Clark 
would  have  been  obliged  to  relinquish  his  grip  of  the 
Illinois  countr}^,  and  the  whole  West  would  have  once 
more  become  a  British  possession. 

Not  without  reason  have  the  men  who  fought  and 
won  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain  been  called  the 
"Rear-guard  of  the  Revolution." 


CHAPTER  XV 

FROM  WATAUGA  TO  THE  CUMBERLAND 

THERE  were  few  prominent  Wataugans  who  did 
not  take  part  in  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain, 
but  there  was  one  conspicuous  absentee  —  the 
founder  of  the  Httle  settlements  from  which  the  vic- 
tors came.  It  was  not  cowardice,  however,  that  held 
James  Robertson  back.  While  Shelby  and  Sevier 
were  marching  across  the  mountains  to  strike  so 
valiantly  for  home  and  country,  Robertson  was 
engaged  on  a  mission  no  less  hazardous  than  theirs 
and  fraught  with  equally  important  consequences. 
Far  out  in  the  West  with  a  company  of  loyal  fol- 
lowers, he  was  establishing  another  American  com- 
munity and  thereby  laying  deeper  the  foundations  of 
the  present  State  of  Tennessee.  The  record  of 
Robertson's  achievements  in  the  valley  of  the  Cum- 
berland forms  one  of  the  most  interesting  passages 
in  the  history  of  the  early  West  and  of  the  Wilderness 
Road. 

Just  when  or  why  Robertson  decided  to  leave 
Watauga  and  seek  a  new  home  on  the  bank  of  the 
westward-flowing   Cumberland,   it   is    impossible  to 

264 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         265 

say  with  absolute  certitude.  But  it  is  known  that 
he  acted  largely  under  the  influence  of  Richard  Hen- 
derson, the  ambitious  land-speculator  and  colonizer 
of  Transylvania  fame.  Although,  by  the  joint  action 
of  the  Transylvanians  and  the  Virginia  Assembly, 
Henderson  had  been  compelled  to  relinquish  his  hold 
of  Kentucky,  North  Carolina  had  not  as  yet  proceeded 
against  him,  and  he  promptly  went  to  work  to  dis- 
pose of  the  western  lands  within  its  borders  purchased 
by  him  from  the  Cherokees.  The  terms  he  offered 
were  so  extremely  liberal  that  many  were  tempted 
by  them,  and  among  others  James  Robertson. 

Now  history  began  to  repeat  itself.  Precisely  as 
he  had  done  in  the  case  of  Transylvania,  Henderson 
organized  a  company  of  pioneers  to  spy  out  the  land 
and  select  sites  for  settlement.  Robertson  willingly 
agreed  to  take  charge  of  this  work,  and,  in  the  spring 
of  1779,  started  west  with  eight  companions,  the 
understanding  being  that  after  they  had  found  a 
suitable  location  they  were  to  sow  corn,  build 
cabins,  and  erect  stockades;  and  were  then  to  return 
to  Watauga  for  their  families  and  any  other  settlers 
who  might  wish  to  join  them.  This  was  the  course 
that  had  been  followed  in  the  founding  of  Boones- 
borough,  and,  Kke  the  builders  of  Boonesborough, 
Robertson  and  his  party  struck  off  for  the  West  by 
way  of  Cumberland  Gap  and  Boone's  Wilderness 
Road. 


266     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

But,  unlike  Boone  and  his  road-makers,  they  had 
no  Felix  Walker  to  chronicle  the  adventures  that 
befell  them  on  their  journey.  Not  even  the  route 
they  took  can  be  accurately  described.  All  that  is 
known  is  that  they  continued  along  the  W^ilderness 
Road  to  the  Cumberland  River,  crossed  the  Cumber- 
land, and  turned  to  the  southwest,  threading  their 
way  through  the  wilderness  by  Indian  trail  and 
buffalo  trace  until  they  reached  the  Great  Bend  of 
the  Cumberland,  where  Nashville  now  stands.  This 
seemed  to  them  an  ideal  spot  for  settlement,  and 
they  at  once  began  felling  trees  and  shaping  logs  for 
the  building  of  their  future  homes. 

There  was  some  doubt  in  their  minds,  however, 
whether  the  site  they  had  chosen  came  within  the 
limits  of  Kentucky  or  North  CaroHna  the  boundary- 
line  not  having  as  yet  been  run  so  far  west.  Accord- 
ingly, while  four  of  the  men  returned  to  bring  out  the 
settlers,  and  three  remained  *'to  keep  the  buffaloes 
out  of  the  corn,"  Robertson  journeyed  north  to  dis- 
tant Kaskaskia  to  visit  George  Rogers  Clark,  who 
was  understood  to  have  authority  to  sell  cabin-rights 
to  intending  settlers  in  Kentucky.  He  might  have 
spared  himself  this  long  and  hazardous  trip,  for  the 
boundary  was  soon  afterwards  officially  determined, 
and  it  was  found  that  the  Cumberland  settlements 
were  on  North  Carolina  soil. 

On  his  way  back  Robertson  met  a  large  party  of 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         267 

homeseekers  bound  for  western  Kentucky,  and  with- 
out much  urging  persuaded  them  to  change  their 
destination  and  accompany  him  to  the  Cumberland. 
Meantime  other  settlers  had  arrived  at  the  Bend, 
from  Virginia  and  South  Carolina,  and  were  scattered 
in  small  groups  for  several  miles  up  and  down  the 
river.  So  steady  was  the  stream  of  immigration 
that  within  a  twelvemonth  eight  stations  were  estab- 
lished, the  largest  of  which  was  named  Nashborough, 
—  afterwards  Nashville,  —  while  the  others  were 
called  Gasper's,  Eaton's,  Bledsoe's,  Stone's  River, 
Asher's,  Freeland's,  and  Fort  Union.  Nashborough 
was  so  named  in  honor  of  Governor  Nash  of  North 
Carolina,^  while  the  others  were  in  most  cases  named 
after  their  principal  settlers. 

Thus  far  comparatively  few  families  had  come  out, 
owing  to  the  difficulty  of  transporting  household 
goods  along  the  Wilderness  Road  and  the  still  nar- 
rower Indian  trails  from  the  Wilderness  Road  to 
Nashborough.  But  in  the  winter  of  1779-80  a  large 
expedition  was  organized,  under  the  command  of 
John  Donelson,  father  of  the  Rachel  Donelson  who 
became  the  wife  of  Andrew  Jackson,  and,  had 
she  lived,  would  have  been  mistress  of  the  White 
House.     Robertson's  family  accompanied  this  expe- 

^  Also  said,  however,  to  have  been  named  in  honor  of  General 
Francis  Nash,  who  was  fatally  wounded  at  the  battle  of  German- 
town,  October  4,  1777. 


268     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

dition,  which  went  by  water  down  the  Tennessee  and 
up  the  Ohio  and  Cumberland,  and  was  so  large  and 
well  equipped  as  to  fill  a  flotilla  of  about  thirty  "flat- 
boats,  dug-outs,  and  canoes."  The  story  of  its  ad- 
ventures en  route  to  Nashborough,  as  told  in  a  journal* 
kept  by  Donelson  himself,  reads,  as  some  one  has  said, 
like  a  chapter  out  of  one  of  Mayne  Reid's  novels. 

The  Adventure  was  the  "flag-ship"  of  the  flotilla, 
and  was  a  large  flat-boat  in  which  were  more  than 
thirty  men  and  their  families.  Although  a  start 
was  made  December  22,  1779,  low  water  and 
heavy  frosts  so  delayed  progress  that  the  voyage 
did  not  really  begin  until  February  27,  of  the 
following  year,  when  the  flotilla  left  Cloud  Creek, 
a  tributary  of  the  Holston.  Except  for  occasionally 
running  aground  all  went  well  until  the  Tennessee 
was  reached.  March  7  the  adventurers  passed  a 
deserted  Chickamauga  village,  and  the  following 
day  arrived  at  another  that  was  not  deserted. 

"The  inhabitants,"  writes  Donelson,  "invited  us 
to  come  ashore,  called  us  brothers,  and  showed  other 
signs  of  friendship,  insomuch  that  Mr.  John  Caff'rey 
and  my  son,  then  on  board,  took  a  canoe  which  I  had 

^  The  full  title  is  ''  Journal  of  a  Voyage  intended  by  God's 
Permission,  in  the  good  Boat  Adventure,  from  Fort  Patrick'  Henry, 
on  Holston  River,  to  the  French  Salt  Springs  on  the  Cumberland 
River,  kept  by  John  Donelson."  It  is  printed  in  full  in  A.  W. 
Putnam's  "  History  of  Middle  Tennessee." 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         269 

in  tow,  and  were  crossing  over  to  them,  the  rest  of  the 
fleet  having  landed  on  the  opposite  shore.  After 
they  had  gone  some  distance,  a  half-breed,  who  called 
himself  Archy  Coody,  with  several  other  Indians, 
jumped  into  a  canoe,  met  them,  and  advised  them  to 
return  to  the  boat,  which  they  did,  together  with 
Coody,  and  several  canoes,  which  left  the  shore  and 
followed  directly  after  him. 

"After  distributing  some  presents  among  them, 
with  which  they  seemed  much  pleased,  we  observed 
a  number  of  Indians  on  the  other  side  embarking  in 
their  canoes,  armed  and  painted  with  red  and  black. 
Coody  immediately  made  signs  to  his  companions, 
ordering  them  to  quit  the  boat,  which  they  did, 
himself  and  another  Indian  remaining  with  us,  and 
telling  us  to  move  ofF  instantly.  We  had  not  gone 
far  before  we  discovered  a  number  of  Indians,  armed 
and  painted,  proceeding  down  the  river,  as  it  were 
to  intercept  us.  Coody,  the  half-breed,  and  his  com- 
panion sailed  with  us  for  some  time,  and,  telling  us 
we  had  passed  all  the  towns  and  were  out  of  danger, 
left  us." 

They  were  soon  undeceived.  Before  nightfall 
they  came  to  another  Indian  village,  where,  after 
vainly  endeavoring  to  lure  them  ashore,  a  war-party 
launched  canoes  and  started  in  pursuit.  It  hap- 
pened that  a  few  days  earlier  smallpox  had  broken 
out  among  the  occupants  of  a  flat-boat  containing 


270     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

twenty-eight  persons  who,  as  a  safeguard  for  the 
health  of  the  rest,  had  been  ordered  to  keep  at  a  good 
distance  in  the  rear  of  the  flotilla.  The  Chicka- 
maugans  naturally  singled  out  this  boat  for  attack, 
boarded  it,  butchered  all  the  men,  and  carried  the 
women  and  children  into  captivity.  In  so  doing 
they  brought  upon  themselves  a  fearful  retribution, 
for  they  became  infected  with  the  disease  of  their 
victims  and,  the  infection  spreading  to  other  villages 
and  tribes,  hundreds  of  Indians  perished  —  a  fact 
which  helps  to  account  for  the  comparative  immunity 
of  the  Cumberland  settlements  from  Indian  raids 
until  they  were  strong  enough  to  defeat  all  attempts 
to  drive  them  back  to  the  mountain  settlements. 

In  another  boat  a  man  was  killed  by  a  shot  fired 
from  ambush  by  a  party  of  savages  hiding  on  the 
opposite  bank;  and  an  hour  or  so  later,  when  pass- 
ing through  the  so-called  "Whirl  "  of  the  Tennessee, 
where  the  river  courses  swiftly  between  lofty  over- 
hanging cliffs,  the  expedition  was  again  attacked,  the 
Indians  firing  down  from  the  heights  and  wounding 
four  people. 

During  the  mad  rush  to  escape  a  boat  ran  ashore, 
and  its  occupants,  a  family  named  Jennings,  had  to 
be  left  to  their  fate.  Donelson  took  it  for  granted 
that  they  would  unfailingly  be  slaughtered,  but  two 
days  afterwards,  under  date  of  March  30,  his  "Jour- 
nal "  records :  — 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         271 

"This  morning,  about  four  o'clock,  we  were  sur- 
prise by  cries  of  *HeIp  poor  Jennings!'  at  some 
distance  in  the  rear.  He  had  discovered  us  by  our 
fires,  and  came  up  in  the  most  wretched  condition. 
He  states  that  as  soon  as  the  Indians  had  discovered 
his  situation,  they  turned  their  whole  attention  to 
him,  and  kept  up  a  most  galling  fire  on  his  boat.  He 
ordered  his  wife,  a  son  nearly  grown,  a  young  man 
who  accompanied  them,  and  his  two  negroes,  to 
throw  all  his  goods  into  the  river,  to  lighten  their  boat 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  her  off;  himself  returning 
their  fire  as  well  as  he  could,  being  a  good  soldier 
and  an  excellent  marksman.  But  before  they  had 
accomplished  their  object,  his  son,  the  young  man, 
and  the  negro  man  jumped  out  of  the  boat  and  left 
them :  he  thinks  the  young  man  and  the  negro  were 
wounded. 

*'  Before  they  left  the  boat,  Mrs.  Jennings,  however, 
and  the  negro  woman  succeeded  in  unloading  the 
boat,  but  chiefly  by  the  exertions  of  Mrs.  Jennings, 
who  got  out  of  the  boat  and  shoved  her  off;  but  was 
near  falling  a  victim  to  her  own  intrepidity,  on  account 
of  the  boat  starting  so  suddenly  as  soon  as  loosened 
from  the  rocks.  Upon  examination  he  appears  to 
have  made  a  wonderful  escape,  for  his  boat  is  pierced 
in  numberless  places  with  bullets." 

Two  days  later  the  expedition  was  again  attacked 
as  it  floated  past  another  Indian  village.     On  this 


2/2     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

occasion  no  injury  was  done,  but  on  March  14,  when 
almost  out  of  the  Chickamauga  country,  five  men 
were  wounded,  their  boats  "approaching  too  near 
the  shore,"  where  the  savages  had  laid  an  ambuscade. 
For  the  remainder  of  the  voyage,  to  the  relief  of  all, 
no  Indians  were  seen.  March  20  the  travellers 
entered  the  Ohio,  and  on  the  24th  turned  from  the 
Ohio  into  the  Cumberland,  not  completing  their 
journey,  however,  until  exactly  a  month  later,  for 
it  was  April  24  before  they  caught  their  first  ghmpse 
of  the  palisades  of  Nashborough. 

They  had  been  five  months  on  the  way,  had  been 
repeatedly  forced  to  run  a  gauntlet  of  bullets,  more 
than  once  had  narrowly  escaped  shipwreck  and  death 
by  drowning,  and  were  utterly  exhausted.  Well 
might  Donelson  congratulate  himself  on  having  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  them  safely  to  their  goal. 

"This  day,"  he  writes,  in  closing  his  unpolished 
yet,  to  modern  Tennesseens,  inestimably  precious 
narrative,  *'we  arrived  at  our  journey's  end  at  the 
Big  Salt  Lick,  where  we  have  the  pleasure  of  finding 
Captain  Robertson  and  his  company.  It  is  a  source 
of  satisfaction  to  us  to  be  enabled  to  restore  to  him 
and  others  their  families  and  friends  who  were  in- 
trusted to  our  care,  and  who,  some  time  since,  per- 
haps despaired  of  ever  meeting  again.  Though  our 
prospects  at  present  are  dreary,  we  have  found  a  few 
log-cabins  which  have  been   built  on  a  cedar  blufF 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         273 

above  the  Lick  by  Captain  Robertson  and  his  com- 
pany." 

Mark  well  that  last  sentence.  Seldom  has  the  true 
spirit  of  America  been  given  more  eloquent  expres- 
sion than  in  those  few  simple  words.  Separated 
from  even  the  small  settlements  of  the  border  by 
hundreds  of  miles  of  black,  tangled  forest;  sur- 
rounded by  cruel  foes  who  might  fall  upon  them  at 
any  moment  in  overwhelming  strength,  John  Donel- 
son  and  his  mates  found  sufficient  cause  for  gratitude 
and  hopefulness  in  the  fact  that  they  had  a  few  log- 
cabins  to  give  them  shelter.  Dreary,  in  truth,  was 
the  prospect,  yet  there  was  no  thought  of  surrender, 
no  thought  of  turning  back.  This  was  the  spirit 
of  the  early  West,  this  is  the  spirit  of  the  West  to-day, 
it  is  the  true  American  spirit. 

To  do,  to  dare,  to  conquer;  always  manfully  con- 
fident, pressing  on  from  achievement  to  achievement, 
beaten  at  moments,  perhaps,  but  never  acknowledg- 
ing defeat,  and  doggedly  returning  to  wrest  triumph 
from  disaster,  —  it  was  this  spirit  that  enabled  the 
pioneers  under  Boone  and  Clark,  Sevier  and  Robert- 
son, to  win  and  hold  for  the  United  States  the  vast 
expanse  of  wild  but  fertile  country  between  the  Alle- 
ghanies  and  the  Mississippi;  it  was  this  spirit  that 
enabled  their  descendants  and  successors  to  carry 
the  American  flag  beyond  the  Mississippi,  until  the 
Republic  spanned  the  continent  from  sea  to  sea. 


274     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

In  a  thousand  ways  the  dauntless  courage,  the 
masterful  independence,  the  bold  self-reliance  of  the 
men  of  the  early  West  were  manifested,  and  not 
least  in  the  measures  they  took  to  insure  order  and 
tranquillity  in  their  isolated  communities.  We  have 
already  seen  how  the  Watauga  settlers,  men  without 
experience  in  state-craft,  devised  a  form  of  govern- 
ment based  on  mutual  confidence  and  esteem,  and 
proving  eminently  workable;  and  we  have  also  seen 
how  the  Transylvanians  similarly  established  a  gov- 
ernment of  their  own,  less  satisfactory  than  that  of 
Watauga,  but  still  containing  admirable  features  and 
testifying  to  the  inherent  capacity  of  the  pioneers  for 
the  management  of  affairs.  Now  the  settlers  on 
the  Cumberland  in  their  turn  proceeded  to  effect  a 
governmental  organization,  based  on  a  written  con- 
stitution which,  for  its  pure  democracy,  deserves  to  be 
carefully  examined  by  all  students  of  political  science. 

It  was  on  May  i,  1780,  —  another  historic  Ameri- 
can May-day,  —  that  the  people  of  the  different 
stations,  in  answer  to  a  call  issued  by  Robertson,  met 
in  convention  at  Nashborough  and  signed  articles  of 
association  drawn  up,  in  all  probability,  by  Robert- 
son, with  some  assistance  from  Richard  Henderson, 
who  had  come  out  to  survey  the  boundary-line  be- 
tween the  western  lands  of  Virginia  and  North  Caro- 
lina, and  to  arrange  terms  of  payment  with  all  who 
settled  in  the  territory  to  which  he  laid  claim. 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         275 

An  attempt,  indeed,  has  been  made  to  credit  Hen- 
derson rather  than  Robertson  with  the  authorship  of 
the  Cumberland  Compact,  but  the  internal  evidence 
of  that  document  itself  would  seem  to  disprove  this. 
There  is  a  complete  absence  of  the  proprietary  char- 
acteristics of  the  Transylvania  Constitution,  and 
while  Henderson  by  this  time  doubtless  appreciated 
the  absurdity  and  impossibility  of  attempting  to 
establish  a  proprietary  government  on  American 
soil,  there  are  many  clauses  in  the  Cumberland  Com- 
pact so  extremely  democratic  that  it  is  hard  to  see 
how  he  could  possibly  have  penned  them. 

The  "Articles  of  Agreement,  or  Compact  of  Gov- 
ernment, entered  into  by  settlers  on  the  Cumberland 
River,  1st  May,  1780,"  as  the  Cumberland  Consti- 
tution is  formally  styled,  provided,  first  of  all,  that 
until  the  lav/s  of  North  Carolina  were  extended  to 
the  Cumberland  settlements  they  were  to  be  gov- 
erned by  a  Court,  or  Assembly,  of  twelve  Triers, 
Judges,  or  General  Arbitrators,  as  they  were  vari- 
ously called,  elected  from  the  different  settlements 
on  the  basis  of  manhood  suffrage  and  representation 
according  to  population. 

There  were  to  be  three  Triers  from  Nashborough, 
two  from  Gasper's  and  Eaton's,  and  one  from  each 
of  the  other  five  stations.  They  were  to  meet  at 
Nashborough  and  have  full  jurisdiction  in  the  settle- 
ment of  all  disputes,  any  three  of  them  being  com- 


276     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

petent  to  sit  as  a  trial  court.  No  appeal  was  allowed 
in  cases  where  the  "debt  or  damages  or  demand" 
did  not  exceed  one  hundred  dollars.  If  the  sum  in 
dispute  were  larger,  appeal  could  be  taken  to  nine  of 
the  Triers  sitting  as  an  appellate  court,  their  decision 
to  be  binding  if  seven  of  the  nine  agreed.  As  to 
criminal  cases,  the  Compact  declared :  — 

"And  it  is  further  agreed  that  a  majority  of  the 
said  Judges,  Triers,  or  General  Arbitrators,  shall 
have  power  to  punish  in  their  discretion,  having 
respect  to  the  laws  of  our  country,  all  offences  against 
the  peace,  misdemeanors,  and  those  criminal,  or  of 
a  capital  nature,  provided  such  Court  does  not  pro- 
ceed with  execution  so  far  as  to  affect  hfe  or  member; 
and  in  case  any  should  be  brought  before  them  whose 
crime  is  or  shall  be  dangerous  to  the  State,  or  for 
which  the  benefit  of  clergy  is  taken  away  by  law, 
and  sufficient  evidence  or  proof  of  the  fact  or  facts 
can  probably  be  made,  such  Court,  or  a  majority  of 
the  members,  shall  and  may  order  and  direct  him,  her, 
or  them  to  be  safely  bound  and  sent  under  a  strong 
guard  to  the  place  where  the  offence  was  or  shall  be 
committed,  or  where  legal  trial  of  such  offence  can 
be  had,  which  shall  accordingly  be  done  and  the 
reasonable  expense  attending  the  discharge  of  this 
duty  ascertained  by  the  Court  and  paid  by  the  inhabit- 
ants in  such  proportion  as  shall  be  hereafter  agreed 
on  for  that  purpose." 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         277 

Provision  was  made  for  the  establishment  of  a 
Land  Office,  and  for  the  payment  of  Henderson  and 
his  associates  at  the  rate  of  "twenty-six  pounds, 
thirteen  shillings,  and  four  pence,  current  money, 
per  hundred  acres,"  after  they  could  give  the  settlers 
"a  satisfactory  and  indisputable  title"  —  a  clause 
which  resulted  in  perpetual  non-payment,  owing  to 
the  action  of  the  North  CaroHna  Legislature  in  an- 
nulHng  Henderson's  claims  on  the  Cumberland, 
while  voting  him  two  hundred  thousand  acres  in 
another  part  of  the  State  as  a  compensation  for  the 
services  he  unquestionably  had  rendered  in  promot- 
ing the  settlement  of  the  West. 

It  was  also  agreed  by  the  Cumberland  Compact 
that  Henderson  should  have  the  power  of  appointing 
the  Entry  Taker  of  the  Land  Office.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  the  Entry  Taker  neglected  his  duties,  or  was 
found  "by  the  said  Judges,  or  a  majority  of  them, 
to  have  acted  fraudulently,  to  the  prejudice  of  any 
person  whatsoever,  such  Entry  Taker  shall  be  im- 
mediately removed  from  his  office,  and  the  book 
taken  out  of  his  possession  by  the  said  Judges,  until 
another  shall  be  appointed  to  act  in  his  room."  The 
Judges  themselves  were  made  subject  to  removal, 
by  one  of  the  most  noteworthy  clauses  in  this  back- 
woods constitution :  — 

"As  often  as  the  people  in  general  are  dissatisfied 
with  the  doings  of  the  Judges  or  Triers  so  to  be 


2/8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

chosen,  they  may  call  a  new  election  in  any  of  the 
said  stations,  and  elect  others  in  their  stead,  having 
due  respect  to  the  number  now  agreed  to  be  elected 
at  each  station,  which  persons  so  to  be  chosen  shall 
have  the  same  power  with  those  in  whose  room  or 
place  they  shall  or  may  be  chosen  to  act." 

Thus,  with  a  political  wisdom  and  forethought 
lacking  in  many  more  enhghtened  communities,  the 
cabin  dwellers  of  the  Cumberland  kept  in  their  hands 
the  power  of  immediate  recall  —  that  strongest  of 
agencies  to  insure  a  truly  democratic  government. 
Theirs  was  to  be  emphatically  a  government  of  the 
people  by  the  people  and  for  the  people,  as  they  made 
unmistakably  clear  in  the  closing  clause  of  their 
compact;  — 

"The  well-being  of  this  country  entirely  depends, 
under  Divine  Providence,  on  unanimity  of  sentiment 
and  concurrence  in  measures,  and  as  clashing  in- 
terests and  opinions,  without  being  under  some 
restraint,  will  most  certainly  produce  confusion,  dis- 
cord, and  almost  certain  ruin,  so  we  think  it  our  duty 
to  associate,  and  hereby  form  ourselves  into  one 
society  for  the  benefit  of  present  and  future  settlers, 
and  until  the  full  and  proper  exercise  of  the  laws  of 
our  country  can  be  in  use,  and  the  powers  of  govern- 
ment extended  among  us;  we  do  most  solemnly  and 
sacredly  declare  and  promise  each  other,  that  we  will 
faithfully  and   punctually  adhere  to,   perform,   and 


From  Watauga  to  the  Cumberland         279 

abide  by  this  our  Association,  and  at  all  times,  if 
need  be,  compel  by  our  united  force  a  due  obedience 
to  these  our  rules  and  regulations.  In  testimony 
whereof  we  have  hereunto  subscribed  our  names  in 
token  of  our  entire  approbation  of  the  measures 
adopted."  ^ 

The  election  of  the  Triers  followed,  Robertson 
being  chosen  to  preside  over  their  dehberations,  and 
also  being  elected  commander-in-chief  of  the  mili- 
tary forces  of  the  united  settlements.  After  which 
the  signers  of  the  compact  —  to  which  two  hundred 
and  fifty-six  names  were  attached  —  dispersed  to 
their  respective  stations  to  resume  the  daily  task  of 
clearing  the  wilderness,  and,  erelong,  to  take  up  in 
addition  the  burden  of  defending  their  homes  from 
the  pitiless  attacks  of  the  American  settler's  dead- 
liest foe. 

From  their  forest-girt  strongholds,  in  little  war- 
parties  of  ten  to  twenty-five,  the  Cherokee  and  the 
Creek,  the  Chickamauga  and  the  Chickasaw,  set 
forth  in  the  early  summer  of  1780  to  carry  death  and 
destruction  to  the  hardy  adventurers  who  had  taken 
possession  of  their  choice  hunting-grounds.  But 
they  had  delayed  their  attack  too  long,  and  when  they 
made  it,  did  not  carry  on  the  steady,  vigorous  cam- 

^  The  full  text  of  the  Cumberland  Articles  of  Agreement,  so  far 
as  that  document  has  been  preserved,  may  be  studied  in  A.  W. 
Putnam's  "History  of  Middle  Tennessee." 


28o     Daniel  Boone  and   the  Wilderness  Road 

paign  that  alone  could  have  brought  success.  De- 
spite frequent  raids,  despite  occasional  victories  and 
the  inflicting  of  some  heavy  losses,  they  signally 
failed  to  break  the  spirit  or  loosen  the  grasp  of 
the  iron-willed  men  of  the  Cumberland,  who,  under 
the  inspiring  leadership  of  Robertson,  struck  back 
as  savagely  as  they.  Two  years  of  guerilla  warfare 
ended  in  their  complete  discomfiture,  and  by  the 
opening  of  the  year  1783  there  was  no  longer  doubt 
as  to  who  would  henceforth  be  masters  of  the  Cum- 
berland Valley. 

It  was  in  that  same  year  that  peace  with  Great 
Britain  was  declared,  and  before  its  close  the  peopling 
of  the  West  had  begun  in  earnest  —  a  great  migra- 
tion setting  in,  to  occupy  and  hold  and  develop  the 
glorious  region  won  for  the  United  States  by  the 
prowess  of  the  buck-skinned  heroes  of  Watauga, 
Kentucky,    and   the   Cumberland. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

ANNALS    OF    THE    WILDERNESS    ROAD 

AT  the  close  of  the  Revolution  there  were 
scarcely  ten  thousand  American  settlers  in  all 
the  broad  region  between  the  Alleghanies  and 
the  Mississippi.  When  the  first  Federal  census  was 
taken,  less  than  ten  years  later,  it  was  found  that  the 
ten  thousand  had  become  more  than  one  hundred 
thousand,  nearly  three-fourths  of  whom  were  located 
in  Kentucky.  In  another  ten  years,  or  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  population  of 
the  same  transmontane  region  had  increased  to 
upwards  of  four  hundred  thousand,  including  two 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  in  Kentucky  alone. 
Thus,  for  fully  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  the  time 
it  was  opened  up  to  civilization  by  the  Transylvania 
pioneers,  Kentucky  remained  the  premier  Western 
State,  and  received  the  bulk  of  the  enormous  army 
of  home-seekers  who,  immediately  after  the  cessation 
of  hostilities,  hastened  to  take  possession  of  the  virgin 
lands  of  the  West. 

There  were  many  reasons  why  the  incoming  stream 

281 


282     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

of  humanity  flowed  chiefly  to  Kentucky.  For  one 
thing,  the  marvellous  fertility  of  its  soil  had  been  made 
known  throughout  the  East  by  returned  travellers  and 
by  speculators  who  had  secured  extensive  holdings  at 
a  trifling  outlay  and  were  not  overscrupulous  as  to 
the  means  they  employed  for  disposing  of  them.  To 
such  lengths  did  some  of  these  land-jobbers  go  that, 
as  the  French  traveller,  F.  A.  Michaux,  indignantly 
noted,  "even  forged  plans  were  fabricated,  on  which 
rivers  were  laid  down,  calculated  for  the  establish- 
ment of  mills  and  other  uses."  Nor  did  they  hesi- 
tate on  occasion  to  sell  lands  to  which  they  were  well 
aware  they  could  not  give  a  valid  title. 

Moreover,  it  was  understood  that  only  in  Kentucky 
or  Tennessee  could  any  degree  of  security  be  had 
against  attack  by  the  Indians.  As  has  been  said, 
after  Clark's  punitive  expedition  against  the  Shawnee 
towns  in  1782,  the  Shawnees  and  their  allies,  although 
continuing  to  make  desultory  raids,  never  again  in- 
vaded Kentucky  in  force.  But,  even  after  the  end- 
ing of  the  Revolution  had  deprived  them  of  British 
support,  they  maintained  a  bitterly  hostile  attitude 
towards  all  Americans,  and  for  years  prevented  occu- 
pation of  the  country  north  of  the  Ohio,  except  at  such 
border  points  as  Cincinnati  and  Marietta,  both  of 
which  cities  were  founded  in  1788.  In  fact,  it  was  not 
until  1795,  following  Anthony  Wayne's  victory  at  the 
battle  of  Fallen  Timber,  and  the  subsequent  Treaty 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road  283 

of  Greenville,  that  the  settlement  of  the  Old  North- 
west really  began. 

The  hostility  of  the  Indians  had  the  further  con- 
sequence of  indirectly  promoting  the  development  of 
Kentucky  and  Tennessee  by  influencing  many  of  the 
early  home-seekers  to  enter  the  West  by  v^ay  of  Cum- 
berland Gap  and  the  Wilderness  Road;  since, as  long 
as  Ohio  remained  in  the  possession  of  the  savages, 
travel  by  the  much  easier  Ohio  River  route  v^as  ex- 
tremely hazardous.  How  hazardous  may  best  be 
shown  by  relating  one  of  the  numerous  tales  that 
have  been  handed  down  in  proof  of  the  malignity 
and  cunning  with  which  the  Indians,  ever  watchfully 
alert  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Ohio,  entrapped 
unwary  voyagers.  The  victims  on  this  occasion  were 
a  party  of  six  —  four  men  named  May,  Johnston, 
Stiles,  and  Flinn,  and  two  sisters  named  Fleming 
—  who  had  set  out,  in  the  spring  of  1790,  to  journey 
down  the  Ohio  to  Limestone,  now  Maysville. 

"When  near  the  mouth  of  the  Scioto,"  continues 
the  historian  ColHns,  from  whom  I  quote  with  some 
condensation,  "they  were  awakened  at  daylight  by 
FHnn,  whose  turn  it  was  to  watch,  and  informed  that 
danger  was  at  hand.  All  sprang  to  their  feet,  and 
hastened  upon  deck  without  removing  their  night- 
caps or  completing  their  dress.  The  cause  of  Flinn*s 
alarm  was  quickly  evident.  Far  down  the  river  a 
smoke  was  seen,  ascending  in  thick  wreaths  above  the 


284     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

trees.  No  one  doubted  that  Indians  were  in  front. 
As  the  boat  drifted  on,  it  became  evident  that  the  fire 
was  upon  the  Ohio  shore,  and  it  was  instantly  deter- 
mined to  put  over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  river. 
Before  this  could  be  done,  two  white  men  ran  down 
upon  the  bank,  and  clasping  their  hands  in  the  most 
earnest  manner,  implored  the  crew  to  take  them  on 
board. 

"They  declared  that  they  had  been  taken  by  a 
party  of  Indians  a  few  days  before,  had  been  con- 
ducted across  the  Ohio,  and  had  just  effected  their 
escape.  They  added  that  the  enemy  was  in  close  pur- 
suit of  them,  and  that  their  death  was  certain  unless 
admitted  on  board.  Resolute  in  their  purpose  on 
no  account  to  leave  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and 
strongly  suspecting  the  supplicants  of  treachery,  the 
party  paid  no  attention  to  their  entreaties,  but  stead- 
ily pressed  their  course  down  the  river,  and  were 
soon  considerably  ahead  of  them. 

"The  two  white  men  ran  along  the  bank,  and  their 
entreaties  were  changed  into  the  most  piercing  cries 
and  lamentations  upon  perceiving  the  obstinacy  with 
which  their  request  was  disregarded.  Instantly  the 
obduracy  of  the  crew  began  to  relax.  Flinn  and  the 
two  females  earnestly  insisted  upon  going  ashore  and 
relieving  the  white  men,  and  even  the  incredulity  of 
May  began  to  yield  to  the  persevering  importunity 
of   the    supplicants.     A    warm    controversy    began, 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road  285 

and  during  its  progress  the  boat  drifted  so  far  below 
the  men  that  they  appeared  to  relinquish  their  pur- 
suit in  despair. 

"At  this  time  FHnn  made  a  proposal  which,  accord- 
ing to  his  method  of  reasoning,  could  be  carried  into 
effect  without  the  sHghtest  risk  to  any  one  but  himself. 
They  were  now  more  than  a  mile  below  the  pursuers. 
Flinn  proposed  that  May  should  only  touch  the  shore 
long  enough  to  permit  him  to  jump  out.  That  it 
was  impossible  for  Indians  (even  admitting  that  they 
were  at  hand)  to  arrive  in  time  to  arrest  the  boat,  and 
even  should  any  appear  they  could  immediately  put 
off  from  the  shore  and  abandon  him  to  his  fate.  That 
he  was  confident  of  being  able  to  outrun  the  red  devils 
if  they  saw  him  first,  and  was  equally  confident  of 
being  able  to  see  them  as  soon  as  they  could  see  him. 
May  remonstrated  upon  so  unnecessary  an  exposure; 
but  Flinn  was  inflexible,  and  in  an  evil  hour  the  boat 
was  directed  to  the  shore. 

*'They  quickly  discovered,  what  ought  to  have  been 
known  before,  that  they  could  not  float  as  swiftly 
after  leaving  the  current  as  while  borne  along  by  it, 
and  they  were  nearly  double  the  time  in  making  the 
shore  that  they  had  calculated  upon.  When  within 
reach,  FHnn  leaped  fearlessly  upon  the  bank,  and  the 
boat  grated  upon  the  sand.  At  that  moment,  five  or 
six  savages  ran  up,  out  of  breath,  from  the  adjoining 
wood,  and  seizing  Flinn,  began  to  fire  upon  the  boat's 


286     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

crew.  Johnston  and  Stiles  sprang  to  their  arms,  in 
order  to  return  the  fire,  while  May,  seizing  an  axe, 
attempted  to  regain  the  current.  Fresh  Indians  ar- 
rived, however,  in  such  rapid  succession  that  the 
beach  was  quickly  crowded  by  them,  and  May  called 
out  to  his  companions  to  cease  firing  and  come  to  the 
oars.     This  was  instantly  done,  but  it  was  too  late. 

"Seeing  it  impossible  to  extricate  themselves,  they 
awaited  in  passive  helplessness  the  approach  of  the 
conquerors.  The  enemy,  however,  still  declined 
boarding,  and  contented  themselves  with  pouring  in 
an  incessant  fire.  One  of  the  females  received  a  ball 
in  her  mouth,  and  almost  instantly  expired.  Stiles 
immediately  afterwards  was  severely  wounded  in 
both  shoulders,  the  ball  striking  the  right  shoulder- 
blade  and  ranging  transversely  along  his  back.  May 
then  rose  and  waved  his  night-cap  above  his  head  as  a 
signal  of  surrender.  He  instantly  received  a  ball  in 
the  middle  of  the  forehead,  and  fell  dead  by  the  side 
of  Johnston,  covering  him  with  his  blood. 

"Now  the  enemy  ventured  to  board.  Throwing 
themselves  into  the  water,  with  their  tomahawks  in 
their  hands,  a  dozen  or  twenty  swam  to  the  boat  and 
began  to  climb  the  sides.  Johnston  stood  ready  to 
do  the  honors.  Nothing  could  appear  more  cordial 
than  the  greeting.  Each  Indian  shook  him  by  the 
hand,  with  the  usual  salutation  of  "how  de  do"  in 
passable  English,  while  Johnston  met  every  Indian 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness   Road  287 

with  a  forced  smile,  in  which  terror  struggled  with 
civility.  The  Indians  then  passed  on  to  Stiles  and  the 
surviving  Miss  Fleming,  where  the  demonstrations 
of  mutual  joy  were  not  quite  so  lively.  Stiles  was 
writhing  under  his  painful  wound,  and  the  girl  was 
sitting  by  the  body  of  her  sister. 

"Having  shaken  hands  with  all  of  their  captives, 
the  Indians  proceeded  to  scalp  the  dead,  which  was 
done  with  great  coolness,  and  the  reeking  scalps  were 
stretched  and  prepared  upon  hoops  for  the  usual 
process  of  drying,  immediately  before  the  eyes  of  the 
survivors.  The  boat  was  then  drawn  ashore,  and  its 
contents  examined  with  great  greediness.  At  length 
the  Indians  stumbled  upon  a  keg  of  whiskey.  This 
prize  was  eagerly  seized,  and  everything  else  aban- 
doned. 

"On  the  next  morning  the  Indians  rose  early  and 
prepared  for  another  encounter,  expecting  that  boats 
would  be  passing  as  usual.  It  happened  that  Captain 
Thomas  Marshall,  of  the  Virginia  artillery,  was  de- 
scending the  Ohio  in  com.pany  with  several  other 
gentlemen.  About  twelve  o'clock  on  the  second  day 
after  May's  disaster,  the  little  flotilla  appeared  about 
a  mile  above  the  point  where  the  Indians  stood.  In- 
stantly all  was  bustle  and  activity.  The  oars  were 
fixed  to  May's  boat,  the  savages  sprang  on  board, 
and  the  prisoners  were  compelled  to  station  them- 
selves at  the  oars,  and  were  threatened  with  instant 


288     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

death  unless  they  used  their  utmost  exertions.  Cap- 
tain Marshall's  three  boats  came  down  the  river 
very  rapidly,  and  v^ere  soon  immediately  opposite 
the  enemy's.  The  Indians  opened  a  heavy  fire 
upon  them,  and  stimulated  their  rowers  to  the  great- 
est effort. 

"But  they  lost  ground  from  two  circumstances. 
In  their  eagerness  to  overtake  the  whites  they  left  the 
current  and  attempted  to  cut  across  the  river  from 
point  to  point,  in  order  to  shorten  the  distance.  In 
doing  so,  however,  they  lost  the  force  of  the  current, 
and  soon  found  themselves  dropping  astern.  In 
addition  to  this,  the  whites  conducted  themselves  with 
equal  coolness  and  dexterity.  The  second  boat 
waited  for  the  hindmost  and  received  her  crew  on 
board,  abandoning  the  goods  and  horses  to  the 
enemy.  Being  now  more  strongly  manned,  she  shot 
rapidly  ahead,  and  quickly  overtook  the  foremost 
boat,  which,  in  like  manner,  received  the  crew  on 
board,  abandoning  the  cargo  as  before;  and,  having 
six  pairs  of  oars,  and  being  powerfully  manned,  she 
was  soon  beyond  the  reach  of  the  enemy's  shot. 

"The  chase  lasted  more  than  an  hour.  For  the 
first  half  hour  the  fate  of  the  foremost  boat  hung  in 
mournful  suspense.  The  prisoners  were  compelled 
to  labor  hard  at  the  oars,  but  they  took  care  never  to 
pull  together,  and  by  every  means  in  their  power  en- 
deavored to  favor  the  escape  of  their  friends.     At 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road  289 

length  the  Indians  abandoned  the  pursuit,  and  turned 
their  whole  attention  to  the  boats  which  had  been 
deserted. 

"FHnn  was  subsequently  burnt  by  his  fiendish 
captors  at  the  stake,  with  all  the  aggravated  tortures 
that  savage  cruelty  could  devise.  Stiles,  after  run- 
ning the  gauntlet  and  having  been  condemned  to 
death,  made  his  escape  and  reached  the  white  settle- 
ments in  safety.  Miss  Fleming  was  rescued  by  an 
Indian  chief,  at  the  very  time  her  captors  had  bound 
her  to  a  stake  and  were  making  preparations  to  burn 
her  alive,  and  was  conducted  to  Pittsburg.  Johnston 
was  ransomed  by  a  Frenchman  at  Sandusky,  at  the 
price  of  six  hundred  silver  brooches,  and  returned  in 
safety  to  his  family.'' 

Menaced  by  such  a  peril  as  this,  it  is  small  wonder 
that,  throughout  the  decade  between  the  close  of  the 
Revolution  and  Wayne's  successful  campaign  against 
the  Ohio  Indians,  many  emigrants,  even  from  points 
as  far  north  as  Philadelphia  and  New  York,  preferred 
to  reach  the  West  by  the  roundabout,  difficult  route 
over  the  Wilderness  Road.  Not  that  they  thereby 
entirely  avoided  attack  by  the  savages,  who  long  made 
petty  incursions  that  in  the  aggregate  resulted  in  the 
shedding  of  much  blood  and  the  inflicting  of  heavy 
property  losses.  They  were  particularly  active  along 
the  line  of  the  Wilderness  Road,  and  consequently 
it  became  the  custom  for  travellers  to  wait  at  some 


290     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

designated  meeting-place  until  a  numerous  enough 
company  had  been  assembled  to  enable  them  to  pro- 
ceed without  fear  of  being  attacked. 

Inward  bound,  the  usual  rendezvous  w^as  at  a 
blockhouse  on  the  Holston,  at  the  very  beginning  of 
Boone's  historic  road ;  outward  bound,  it  was  at  Crab 
Orchard,  a  Lincoln  County  pioneer  station,  so  named 
because  of  the  quantity  of  wild  apple  trees  which  the 
first  settlers  found  growing  there.  After  the  establish- 
ment of  The  Kentucky  Gazette  —  founded  in  1787, 
and  the  first  newspaper  published  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley  —  advertisements  frequently  appeared,  set- 
ting dates  for  intending  travellers  to  assemble  at  Crab 
Orchard.  "A  large  company,''  runs  one  announce- 
ment, in  1788,  "will  meet  at  the  Crab  Orchard  the 
19th  of  November  in  order  to  start  the  next  day 
through  the  Wilderness.  As  it  is  very  dangerous  on 
account  of  the  Indians,  it  is  hoped  each  person  will 
go  well  armed."  Another  of  the  many  similar  ad- 
vertisements that  might  be  quoted,  warned  all 
travellers  to  arm  themselves  and  ^'notto  depend  on 
others  to  defend  them." 

The  newspapers  of  the  day,  too,  bear  striking  testi- 
mony to  the  fact  that  these  precautionary  measures 
were  amply  justified,  even  long  after  Kentucky  had 
become  comparatively  thickly  settled.  The  Virginia 
Gazette,  of  November  5,  1791,  under  date  of  October 
22,  from  Winchester,  reported  that  :  *'  A  person  ar- 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road  291 

rived  here  on  Wednesday  last  from  Kentucky,  who 
informs  us  that  he  started  from  the  Crab  Orchards  in 
company  with  several  other  persons;  that,  as  they 
passed  through  the  wilderness,  they  discovered  two 
human  bodies  which  had  been  killed  and  scalped  by 
some  Indians,  and  that  he  and  his  companions 
stopped  and  buried  them. 

"Another  party,  who  recently  came  in  through  the 
wilderness  were  attacked  by  a  small  number  of  Ind- 
ians; but  they  all  escaped,  saving  one  woman,  who 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  savages.  She,  however,  was 
fortunate  enough  to  Hberate  herself  afterwards,  in  the 
following  manner:  The  night  after  she  was  taken, 
the  Indians  made  a  large  fire,  and  placed  her  between 
themselves  and  it;  they  then  fell  asleep,  and,  ap- 
parently, the  woman  did  the  same;  but,  watching  her 
opportunity,  she  stole  away  from  them  unperceived, 
and  wandered  in  the  woods  until  she  came  to  a  run  of 
water,  whose  course  she  kept  for  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  miles,  and  at  length  arrived  safe  in  a  settlement 
of  white  inhabitants.'* 

In  the  same  year  a  band  of  Wilderness  Road  ma- 
rauders penetrated  as  far  east  as  the  Watauga  country, 
as  we  find  from  an  item  in  Dunlap's  American  Daily 
Advertiser,  a  correspondent  writing,  in  the  issue  for 
October  12,  1791,  that  "About  the  1st  of  September 
a  party  of  Indians  came  to  a  place  called  Moccassen 
Gap,   in   CHnch   Mountain,  within   seven   miles   of 


292     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Ross's  furnace,  and  killed  four  persons.  A  party  of 
men  followed  them  immediately,  but  through  some 
mismanagement  returned  without  coming  up  with 
them.  It  is  not  known  to  what  nation  they  belonged, 
but,  from  several  circumstances,  it  is  thought  they 
were  northern  Indians." 

So  far  as  the  Indian  peril  was  concerned,  however, 
the  Wilderness  Road  was  never  so  dangerous  as  the 
journey  down  the  Ohio.  But  the  home-seekers  who 
thronged  its  path  invariably  discovered  that  it  had 
disadvantages  from  which  the  water  route  was  alto- 
gether free.  Even  to-day,  after  nearly  a  century  and 
a  half  of  use,  it  remains,  as  that  genial  Kentucky 
writer,  Mr.  James  Lane  Allen,  has  wittily  declared, 
"as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  with  all  its  sloughs  and 
sands,  its  mud  and  holes,  and  jutting  ledges  of  rock 
and  loose  boulders,  and  twists  and  turns,  and  general 
total  depravity."  In  the  time  of  the  first  great  im- 
migration —  the  ten  years  following  the  Revolution 
—  it  was  a  road  of  unending  tribulations.  Indeed, 
it  could  only  by  courtesy  be  called  a  road,  for  it  was 
still  merely  the  narrow,  miry,  forest-encompassed 
trail  chopped  out  by  Boone  and  his  comrades  in  1775. 

For  twenty  years,  or  until  it  was  widened  in  1796 
by  order  of  the  Kentucky  Legislature,  no  wagon  could 
traverse  it.  The  men  and  women,  the  little  children, 
who  toiled  wearily  up  the  long  ascent  to  Cumberland 
Gap,  and  thence  pressed  forward  to  the  Blue  Grass 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness   Road  293 

region  or  the  settlements  on  the  Ohio,  had  to  make 
the  entire  journey  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  just  as 
the  Boones  and  the  Harrods  and  the  Logans  of  earlier 
days  had  been  obliged  to  do;  and  everything  they 
brought  with  them  had  to  be  carried  on  the  backs  of 
patient  pack-horses.  There  were  few  if  any  road- 
houses.  All  had  to  sleep  in  the  open,  huddled  near 
the  camp-fire.  Often  there  was  great  suffering  from 
storm  and  cold  and  want  of  food.  Yet,  such  was  the 
eagerness  to  occupy  and  hold  the  West  that,  at  a  con- 
servative estimate,  no  fewer  than  seventy-five  thou- 
sand persons  passed  through  Cumberland  Gap  and 
along  the  Wilderness  Road  in  the  years  before  it  was 
open  to  wagon  travel. 

Of  all  these  thousands,  though,  scarcely  one  has  left 
any  record  of  the  adventures  that  befell  him  on  his 
journey.  The  sturdy  folk  who  crossed  the  moun- 
tains, while  by  no  means  illiterate,  were  not  a  writing 
people;  and  when  they  reached  their  destination,  they 
had  much  else  to  think  of  than  the  chronicling  of  the 
incidents  of  their  long  pilgrimage.  Consequently  the 
historian  who  would  describe  the  Wilderness  Road 
when  it  was  at  the  height  of  its  importance  must 
fall  back  on  inference  and  imagination,  piecing  out 
his  narrative  from  such  meagre  sources  of  information 
as  occasional  references  in  contemporary  newspapers, 
and  brief  statements  in  private  letters  and  papers,  the 
most  detailed  of  which  —  a  journal  kept  by  William 


294     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Brown,  who  visited  Kentucky  in  1782  —  is  painfully 
deficient  in  the  way  of  affording  a  view  of  life  on 
Boone's  famous  thoroughfare.  But  it  has  the  merit 
of  indicating  plainly  the  difficulties  of  travel,  and  the 
hardships  and  dangers  to  which  all  wayfarers  over 
the  old  road  were  exposed. 

Brown,  who  was  a  Virginian  and  the  father  of 
Judge  Alfred  M.  Brown,  of  Elizabethtown,  Kentucky, 
set  out  on  horseback  from  Hanover,  Virginia,  May 
27,  1782.  Thence  he  rode  to  Richmond,  and  in  a 
direct  line  westward  through  Powhatan,  Cumber- 
land, Buckingham,  and  Amherst  counties  to  the  Blue 
Ridge,  which  he  crossed  into  Botetourt  County.  His 
route  then  lay  to  the  southwest,  between  a  long  suc- 
cession of  mountain  ridges,  to  the  blockhouse  on 
the  Holston,  where  the  Wilderness  Road  began. 
"The  road  from  Hanover  to  this  place,"  he  records, 
"is  generally  very  good;  crossing  the  Blue  Ridge  is 
not  bad;  there  is  not  more  than  a  small  hill  with  some 
winding  to  go  over.  Neither  is  the  Alleghany  Moun- 
tain by  any  means  difficult  at  this  gap.  There  are  one 
or  two  high  hills  about  New  River  and  Fort  Chiswell. 
The  ford  of  New  River  is  rather  bad.  Therefore  we 
thought  it  advisable  to  cross  in  the  ferry-boat.  This 
is  generally  a  good-watered  road  as  far  as  the  block- 
house. 

"We  waited  hereabouts  near  two  weeks  for  com- 
pany and  then  set  out  for  the  wilderness  with  twelve 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road  295 

men  and  ten  guns,  this  being  Thursday,  i8th  July. 
The  road  from  this  until  you  get  over  Walden's 
Ridge  generally  is  bad,  some  part  very  much  so, 
particularly  about  Stock  Creek  and  Stock  Creek 
Ridge.  It  is  a  very  mountainous  country  hereabout, 
but  there  is  some  fine  land  in  the  bottoms,  near  the 
vs^atercourses,  in  narrov^  strips.  It  will  be  but  a  thin- 
settled  country  whenever  it  is  settled.  The  fords  of 
Holstein  and  Clinch  are  both  good  in  dry  weather, 
but  in  a  rainy  season  you  are  often  obliged  to  raft  over. 

"From  there  along  down  Powell's  Valley  until 
you  get  to  Cumberland  Gap  is  pretty  good ;  this  valley 
is  formed  by  Cumberland  Mountain  on  the  northwest 
and  Powell  Mountain  on  the  southeast,  and  appears 
to  bear  from  northeast  southwestwardly,  and  is,  I 
suppose,  almost  one  hundred  miles  in  length,  and 
from  ten  to  twelve  miles  in  breadth.  The  land  gen- 
erally is  good,  and  is  an  exceeding  well-watered  coun- 
try, as  well  as  the  country  on  Holstein  River,  abound- 
ing with  fine  springs  and  little  brooks.  For  about 
fifty  miles,  as  you  travel  along  the  valley,  Cumber- 
land Mountain  appears  to  be  a  very  high  ridge  of 
white  rocks,  inaccessible  in  most  places  to  either  man 
or  beast,  and  aflFords  a  wild,  romantic  prospect. 

"The  way  through  the  gap  is  not  very  difficult,  but 
from  its  situation  travellers  may  be  attacked  in  some 
places,  crossing  the  mountain,  by  the  enemy  to  a  very 
great   disadvantage.     From   thence    until   you   pass 


296     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Rockcastle  River  there  is  very  little  good  road;  this 
tract  of  country  is  very  mountainous,  and  badly 
watered  along  the  trace,  especially  for  springs.  There 
is  some  good  land  on  the  watercourses,  and  just  on 
this  side  Cumberland  River  appears  to  be  a  good 
tract,  and  within  a  few  years  I  expect  to  have  a  settle- 
ment on  it.  Some  parts  of  the  road  are  very  miry  in 
rainy  weather.  The  fords  of  Cumberland  and  Rock- 
castle are  both  good  unless  the  waters  be  too  high; 
after  you  cross  Rockcastle  there  are  a  few  high 
hills,  and  the  rest  of  the  way  tolerable  good;  the 
land  appears  to  be  rather  weak,  chiefly  timbered 
with  oak,  etc. 

"The  first  of  the  Kentucky  waters  you  touch  upon 
is  the  head  of  Dick's  River,  just  eight  miles  from 
English's.  Here  we  arrived  Thursday,  25th  inst., 
which  is  just  seven  days  since  we  started  from  the 
blockhouse.  Monday,  29th  inst.,  I  got  to  Harrods- 
burg.  .  .  . 

"I  travelled  but  little  about  the  country.  From 
English's  to  Harrodsburg  was  the  farthest  west,  and 
from  Logan's  Fort  to  the  Blue  Lick  the  farthest  north. 
Thus  far  the  land  was  generally  good  —  except  near 
and  about  the  Lick  it  was  very  poor  and  badly  tim- 
bered —  generally  badly  watered,  but  pretty  well  tim- 
bered. At  Richmond  Ford,  on  the  Kentucky  River, 
the  bank  a  little  below  the  ford  appears  to  be  largely 
upward  of  a  hundred  feet  perpendicular  of  rock. 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road  297 

**On  my  return  to  Hanover  I  set  off  from  John 
Craig's  Monday,  23d  September,  1782;  left  English's 
Tuesday,  i  o'clock,  arrived  at  the  blockhouse  the 
Monday  evening  following,  and  kept  on  the  same 
route  downv^ard  chiefly  that  I  travelled  out.  Noth- 
ing untoward  occurred  to  me.  Got  to  Hanover 
sometime  about  the  last  of  October  the  same 
year."  ^ 

From  this  matter-of-fact,  but  historically  impor- 
tant, record  of  travel,  it  appears  that  the  westward- 
bound  emigrant  from  New  York,  New  Jersey,  Penn- 
sylvania, Maryland,  and  Virginia  had  a  fairly  easy 
journey  through  the  Valley  of  Virginia  until  he 
reached  the  blockhouse  on  the  Holston.  But,  if 
only  on  account  of  the  tremendous  natural  obstacles 
which  he  thenceforward  had  to  overcome,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  travel  over  the  Wilderness  Road  fell 
off  rapidly  as  soon  as  the  pacification  of  the  Ohio 
Indians  rendered  it  possible  to  utilize  less  difficult 
and  more  direct  routes. 

From  New  York  and  New  England  the  emigrant 
then  found  ready  access  to  the  West  through  the 
Mohawk  and  Genesee  valleys  to  Lake  Erie,  or,  cross- 
ing the  Hudson  at  Albany,  passed  westward  through 
the   Catskill   Mountains   to  the   headwaters   of  the 

*  Brown's  "itinerary"  is  printed  in  full  in  Mr.  Thomas  Speed's 
Filson  Club  monograph  on  "The  Wilderness  Road,"  from  which  I 
have  taken  the  extracts  quoted. 


298     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Allegheny  River.  Several  roads  led  through  Penn- 
sylvania to  the  Ohio,  on  v^hich,  after  1800,  the  home- 
seeker  could  embark  with  his  family  and  float  to  the 
Mississippi  in  perfect  security  from  Indian  attack. 
The  opening  of  other  more  southerly  routes  has- 
tened the  decline  of  Boone's  road  as  a  main-travelled 
way,  and  its  complete  downfall  may  be  said  to  have 
been  accomplished  with  the  building  of  the  cele- 
brated national  turnpike,  the  Cumberland  Road, 
which  led  from  Baltimore  through  Cumberland, 
Maryland,  —  where  unhappy  Braddock  had  mar- 
shalled his  troops,  —  to  Wheeling,  in  West  Virginia, 
being  ultimately  extended  into  Ohio. 

Still,  though  its  glory  has  long  since  vanished,  the 
important  part  once  played  by  the  Wilderness  Road 
in  the  development  of  the  United  States  can  never  be 
forgotten.  As  one  writer,  Professor  A.  B.  Hulbert, 
has  well  said  :  — 

"The  footsteps  of  the  tens  of  thousands  who  have 
passed  over  it,  exhausted  though  each  pilgrim  may 
have  been,  have  left  a  trace  that  a  thousand  years 
cannot  eradicate.  And  so  long  as  the  print  of  these 
many  feet  can  be  seen  in  dark  Powell's  Valley,  on 
Cumberland  Gap,  and  beside  Yellow  and  Rock- 
castle creeks,  so  long  will  there  be  a  memorial  left  to 
perpetuate  the  heroism  of  the  first  Kentuckians  — 
and  the  memory  of  what  the  Middle  West  owes  to 
Virginia  and  her  neighbors.     For  when  all  is  said. 


Annals  of  the  Wilderness  Road 


299 


this  track  from  tide-water  through  Cumberland 
Gap  must  remain  a  monument  to  the  courage  and 
patriotism  of  the  people  of  old  Virginia  and  North 
CaroHna." 

Aye,  and  a  monument  to  its  great  maker,  Daniel 
Boone,  who,  even  when  far  advanced  in  years,  dis- 
played a  Kvely  interest  in  the  highway  he  had  opened 
for  the  nation.  In  1796,  as  was  stated,  the  Wilder- 
ness Road  was  for  the  first  time  made  fit  for  wagon 
travel,  by  order  of  the  Kentucky  Legislature.  The 
announcement  of  the  projected  improvement  drew 
from  Boone  the  following  curious,  but  pathetic,  letter 
addressed  to  Governor  Shelby. 

"Sir,"  Boone  wrote,  "after  my  best  Respts  to 
your  Excelancy  and  famyly  I  wish  to  inform  you  that 
I  have  sum  intention  of  undertaking  this  New  Rode 
that  is  to  be  cut  through  the  Wilderness  and  I  think 
my  Self  intitled  to  the  ofer  of  the  Bisness  as  I  first 
Marked  out  that  Rode  in  March  1775  and  Never 
rec'd  anything  for  my  trubel  and  Sepose  I  am  no 
Statesman  I  am  a  Woodsman  and  think  My  Self  as 
Capable  of  Marking  and  Cutting  that  Rode  as  any 
other  man  Sir  if  you  think  with  Me  I  would  thank 
you  to  wright  me  a  Line  by  the  post  the  first  oportu- 
neaty  and  he  Will  Lodge  it  at  Mr.  John  Milers  on 
hinkston  fork  as  I  wish  to  know  Where  and  When  it 
is  to  be  Laat  [let]  So  that  I  may  atend  at  the  time  I 
am  Deer  Sir  your  very  omble  sarvent  Daniel  Boone." 


300     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

But  others  were  to  get  the  contract  which  should 
deservedly  have  gone  to  him.  The  Boone  of  1796 
was  not  the  Boone  of  1782  in  point  of  influence  and 
prestige  in  Kentucky.  He  was  no  longer  one  of  its 
recognized  leaders.  Rather,  he  had  been  swept  to 
one  side,  and  into  an  unmerited  obscurity,  taking  no 
part  whatever  in  the  upbuilding  of  the  great  common- 
wealth whose  very  existence  was  so  largely  owing  to 
his  brave  endeavor. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

KENTUCKY  AFTER  THE  REVOLUTION 

THROUGHOUT  the  Indian  wars,  as  we  have 
seen,  Daniel  Boone  was  rivalled  only  by  George 
Rogers  Clark  as  the  foremost  figure  in  Ken- 
tucky, his  daring  deeds  in  defence  of  the  infant  set- 
tlements winning  for  him  a  renown  that  time  has 
not  faded  nor  can  ever  fade.  But,  after  the  crucial 
period  of  conflict  was  at  an  end,  after  the  power  of  the 
red  man  to  invade  and  ravage  Kentucky  had  been 
broken,  Boone's  leadership  rapidly  waned.  More 
than  this,  partly  through  his  own  fault  and  partly 
through  the  selfish  scheming  of  others,  a  day  came 
when  he  was  stripped  not  only  of  influence  but  even 
of  possession  of  a  single  acre  of  land.  Homeless, 
burdened  with  debts,  despairing  of  ever  seeing  justice 
done  him,  he  finally  was  impelled  to  depart  from 
the  glorious  domain  with  which  his  name  will  always 
be  associated. 

Still,  even  had  misfortunes  not  crowded  thick  and 
fast  upon  him,  it  is  altogether  unlikely  that  Boone 
would  have  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  Ken- 

301 


302     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

tucky.  He  was,  as  he  had  told  Governor  Shelby  in 
the  letter  quoted  in  the  preceding  chapter,  not  a 
''statesman''  but  a  "woodsman,"  with  all  of  the  true 
woodsman's  distaste  for  the  hurried  and  complex 
life  of  civiHzation.  And  Kentucky,  with  its  influx 
of  seventy  thousand  settlers  within  less  than  eight 
years  after  the  battle  of  the  Blue  Lick,  was  no  longer 
the  Kentucky  in  which  Boone  as  a  woodsman  had 
felt  at  home.  The  buffalo  and  the  deer  and  all  other 
fur-bearing  animals  on  which  he  depended  so  largely 
for  his  livelihood  were  driven  to  far-distant  parts; 
new  customs  and  manners  irksome  to  the  simple- 
hearted  first  settlers,  of  whom  Boone  was  so  con- 
spicuous a  type,  were  fast  introduced;  almost  every- 
where there  was  bustle  and  change,  the  old  palisaded 
stations  giving  place  to  thriving  villages  and  towns, 
or  being  entirely  deserted,  their  war-worn  timbers 
left  to  stand  as  grim  reminders  of  the  years  of  des- 
perate struggle. 

Boonesborough  itself,  it  is  true,  gave  slight  evi- 
dence of  the  new  order  of  things  in  Kentucky.  After 
the  spring  of  1783,  when  a  mounted  messenger  rode 
into  the  stockade  with  the  word  Peace  displayed 
on  his  coonskin  cap,  in  token  of  the  signing  of  the 
treaty  with  Great  Britain,  there  was  a  temporary  ex- 
pansion. But  for  some  reason  immigration  did  not 
trend  Boonesborough-wards,  and  as  late  as  18 10  it 
was  still  a  tiny  hamlet.     To-day  it  is  not  even  a  ham- 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  303 

let,  its  abandoned  site  being  only  a  part  of  a  lonely 
river  farm.  Mr.  Ranck,  in  his  "Boonesborough/' 
argues  that  it  was  at  one  time  a  town  of  considerable 
size,  basing  this  claim  apparently  on  a  British  docu- 
ment which  credits  Boonesborough  with  having 
had,  in  1789,  "upwards  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
houses."  But  since  the  census  of  1790  does  not  even 
mention  it  in  the  enumeration  of  the  towns  of  Ken- 
tucky, it  seems  safe  to  conclude  that  Boonesborough's 
importance  ended  with  the  termination  of  the  Indian 
wars. 

As  to  its  modern  aspect,  Mr.  Ranck  is  well  worth 
quoting.  "One  and  only  one  institution  survives," 
he  writes,  "that  was  established  by  the  settlers  of  the 
place,  and  that  figured  familiarly  in  their  lives.  It  is 
the  picturesque  old  ferry,  the  oldest  in  Kentucky, 
and  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  its  founders.  The 
ferry-boat  is  fashioned  still  exactly  Hke  its  quaint 
and  simple  predecessors  of  the  Revolution,  and  is 
poled  across  the  river  in  the  same  primitive  style  as 
in  the  fighting  days  of  Boone. 

"No  remnant  of  the  battle-scarred  old  fort  remains. 
For  nearly  a  century  the  plough  has  been  busy  where  it 
stood,  and  year  after  year  the  tall  corn  has  rustled 
and  ripened  above  its  site.  Elevated  as  the  fort 
ground  is,  it  has  not  always,  it  is  said,  escaped  the 
obliterating  eflPects  of  great  overflows  of  the  Kentucky 
River,  and  now  the  graves  of  such  of  the  founders 


304     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  defenders  of  the  old  stronghold  as  were  buried 
within  or  near  its  wooden  walls  have  long  been  lev- 
elled and  lost  to  sight. 

"The  famous  *  hollow,'  owing  to  successive  de- 
posits from  river  floods,  is  not  nearly  as  deep  as  it  was 
in  the  days  of  the  pioneers,  and,  long  undisturbed, 
it  is  thick  with  sycamores  that  have  sprung  up  since 
the  settlement  died  out,  and  once  again  the  ancient 
haunt  of  the  buffalo  and  the  elk  is  a  romantic  and 
luxuriant  wild.  The  mighty  elm,  whose  majestic 
dome  sheltered  the  first  legislature  and  the  first  wor- 
shipping assembly  of  a  wilderness  empire,  and  which 
witnessed  one  of  the  strangest  episodes  of  the  Ameri- 
can Revolution  [the  signing  of  the  sham  treaty  at  the 
last  siege  of  Boonesborough],  fell  under  the  axe  in 
1828,  and  fell  in  all  its  stateliness  and  splendor.  It 
was  the  most  unique  and  precious  historical  monu- 
ment in  the  whole  domain  of  Kentucky,  and  was  in- 
vested with  a  charm  that  the  loftiest  sculptured 
column  could  not  possess. 

"But  hedged  about  and  obscured  as  it  has  been  by 
deposits  from  river  floods,  the  sulphur  water  is  there 
round  which  the  wild  animals  of  the  wilderness  gath- 
ered for  unnumbered  generations;  the  Lick  Spring 
still  exists  which  refreshed  alike  the  Indian  and  the 
pioneer,  and  near  it  stands  the  last  of  the  great  syca- 
mores that  were  there  when  the  white  man  first  in- 
vaded the  vast  soHtude  in  which  they  grew." 


^ 

k 

Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  305 

If  Boonesborough  failed  to  profit  from  the  flow  of 
immigration,  elsewhere  the  work  of  settlement  and 
development  went  on  apace,  particularly  north  and 
east  of  the  Kentucky,  and  along  Logan's  Branch  of 
the  Wilderness  Road,  where  a  number  of  promising 
little  towns  sprang  up,  of  which  at  first  the  most  im- 
portant, historically  speaking,  was  Danville.  Situ- 
ated near  Crab  Orchard,  and  between  Logan's  Fort 
and  Harrodstown,  Danville  was  virtually  the  capital 
of  Kentucky  until  its  admission  as  a  State  of  the 
Union  in  1792.^  Farther  west,  along  Logan's  Branch, 
another  prominent  centre  of  settlement  was  at  Bards- 
town,  while,  at  the  terminal  of  this  branch,  Louis- 
ville early  began  to  give  indications  of  the  importance 
it  was  ultimately  to  attain. 

On  the  Kentucky  the  foundations  of  the  present 
capital  of  the  State,  Frankfort,  were  laid.  Almost  in 
a  straight  line  east  from  Frankfort,  Lebanontown  (now 
Georgetown)  and  Paris  were  established,  the  latter 
being  at  first  known  as  Hopewell  and,  for  a  time,  as 
Bourbontown.  In  the  extreme  northeast,  four  miles 
south  of  Maysville  and  convenient  of  access  from  the 
Ohio,  the  town  of  Washington  was  laid  out,  with  a 
population  by  1790  of  nearly  five  hundred.     But  the 

^  The  importance  of  Danville  in  the  early  political  history  of 
Kentucky  is  well  brought  out  in  two  Filson  Club  publications, 
*'The  Political  Club  of  Danville"  and  "The  Political  Beginnings 
of  Kentucky.'* 


3o6     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

largest  and  most  rapidly  growing  town  of  that  day,  the 
proudly  styled  "Metropolis  of  the  West,"  was  Lex- 
ington, south  of,  and  midway  between,  Paris  and 
Frankfort. 

When  the  Revolution  ended,  Lexington  was  still 
merely  a  palisaded  settlement  Hke  Boonesborough, 
Harrodstown,  and  all  other  of  the  pioneer  stations 
of  Kentucky.  At  the  time  of  the  taking  of  the  first 
Federal  census  it  was  a  town  with  more  than  eight 
hundred  inhabitants;  and  within  the  next  ten  years, 
or  by  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  its 
population  had  increased  to  upwards  of  two  thou- 
sand. Its  growth  was  favored  both  by  its  location 
in  the  heart  of  the  rich  Blue  Grass  region  and  by 
the  ease  with  which  it  could  be  approached  from 
the  Ohio  and  from  both  branches  of  the  Wilder- 
ness Road.  As  early  as  1784,  or  only  two  years 
after  the  battle  of  the  Blue  Lick,  a  "dry-goods'* 
store  was  opened  in  Lexington  by  the  always  enter- 
prising, if  notorious,  James  Wilkinson,  who  did  so 
much  to  entangle  the  Kentuckians  with  their  Span- 
ish neighbors,  and  to  create  dissension  between  the 
East  and  the  West.^     The  following  year  a  grist-mill 

^  It  does  not  fall  within  the  province  of  this  book  to  deal  with  the 
exciting,  but  extremely  complicated,  political  events  in  Kentucky 
involved  in  the  efforts  of  the  Kentuckians,  during  the  closing  years 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  to  secure  navigation  rights  through 
Spanish  Louisiana  to  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  whence  they 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  307 

was  put  in  operation,  and  an  inn  established  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  travellers.  Tv^o  years  later,  in  1787, 
John  Bradford  hauled  a  printing-press  to  Lexington, 
by  pack-horse  over  the  mountains,  and  founded  Ken- 
tucky's first  newspaper.  The  Kentucky  Gazette. 

From  the  files  of  this  old  paper  it  is  possible  to  gain 
a  good  idea  of  the  rapidity  with  which  Kentucky  was 
transformed  from  a  country  of  isolated  and  crude 
cabin  settlements  into  a  commonwealth  with  all  the 
institutions,  desirable  and  otherwise,  of  an  advanced 
society.  The  news  columns  of  The  Kentucky  Gazette, 
it  must  regretfully  be  said,  furnish  comparatively 
meagre  information;  for  Bradford,  like  most  of  the 
editors  of  his  time,  ruthlessly  subordinated  local  news 
to  "general  intelligence"  —  largely  of  happenings 
abroad.  But  the  advertisements,  with  their  uncon- 
scious mirroring  of  changing  social  conditions,  amply 
compensate  for  the  absence  of  any  direct  account  of 
the  life  of  the  people  of  Lexington  and  the  country 
round  about  it. 

For  one  thing,  the  advertisements  in  the  Gazette 
afford  impressive  proof  of  the  earnest  desire  on  the 
part  of  the  settlers,  at  the  cost  of  considerable  sacrifice 
to  themselves,  to  provide  educational  facilities  for 

could  transmit  their  products  by  sea  to  the  markets  of  the  Atlantic 
States.  For  clear  and  interesting  studies  of  this  subject  the  reader 
may  consult  Mr.  Roosevelt's  "The  Winning  of  the  West,"  and  Mr. 
Frederic  Austin  Ogg's  "The  Opening  of  the  Mississippi." 


3o8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

their  children.  Reference  has  already  been  made  to 
the  passion  for  education,  if  only  of  an  elementary 
sort,  found  among  the  Scotch-Irish  of  the  Virginia 
and  Carolina  border,  the  first  winners  of  the  West. 
Even  before  Bradford  began  the  publication  of  his 
newspaper  there  were  several  schools  in  Kentucky. 
In  1779,  while  the  struggle  with  the  Indians  was  at  its 
height,  Joseph  Doniphan,  a  young  immigrant  from 
Virginia,  opened  a  school  at  Boonesborough.  The 
following  year  another  was  opened  at  Lexington  by 
John  McKinney.  John  Filson,  to  whom  we  are  in- 
debted for  Boone's  "autobiography,"  also  taught 
school  at  Lexinjiton  before  the  end  of  the  Indian 
wars;  and,  in  1785,  in  a  large  cabin  near  Danville,  a 
beginning  was  made  of  the  "Transylvania  Seminary," 
founded  a  couple  of  years  earlier  by  act  of  the  Virginia 
Legislature  as  an  institution  for  higher  education. 

Not  even  the  Transylvania  Seminary,  as  then 
conducted,  could  compare  favorably,  however,  with 
the  "little  red  schoolhouse"  of  the  country  districts 
of  to-day.  But  with  the  coming  of  the  second  gen- 
eration of  settlers,  many  of  whom  were  people  of  some 
means,  schools  of  a  better  order  were  soon  established. 
In  1787  Isaac  Wilson,  a  graduate  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  opened  the  "Lexington  Grammar 
School"  to  teach  "Latin,  Greek,  and  the  different 
branches  of  science."  A  still  more  ambitious  project 
was  set  on  foot  at  Lebanontown,  as  appears  from  clie 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  309 

following  quaintly  elaborate  advertisement,  inserted 
in  the  Gazette  under  date  of  December  27,  1787  :  — 

"Notice  is  hereby  given  that  on  Monday,  the  28th 
of  January  next,  a  school  will  be  opened  by  Messrs. 
Jones  and  Worley  at  the  royal  spring  at  Lebanontown, 
Fayette  County,  where  a  commodious  house,  suffi- 
cient to  contain  fifty  or  sixty  scholars,  will  be  pre- 
pared. They  will  teach  the  Latin  and  Greek  lan- 
guages, together  with  such  branches  of  the  sciences 
as  are  usually  taught  in  public  seminaries,  at  twenty- 
five  shillings  a  quarter  for  each  scholar,  one  half  to  be 
paid  in  cash,  the  other  in  produce  at  cash  price. 
There  will  be  a  vacation  of  a  month  in  the  spring  and 
another  in  the  fall,  at  the  close  of  each  of  which  it  is 
expected  that  such  payments  as  are  due  in  cash  will 
be  made.  For  diet,  washing,  and  house-room  for 
a  year,  each  scholar  pays  three  pounds  in  cash,  or 
five  hundred  weight  of  pork,  on  entrance,  and  three 
pounds  each  on  the  beginning  of  the  third  quarter. 
It  is  desired  that  as  many  as  can  would  furnish  them- 
selves with  beds;  such  as  cannot  may  be  provided  for 
here  to  the  number  of  eight  or  ten  boys,  at  twenty-five 
shillings  a  year  for  each  bed. 

"N.B.  It  would  be  proper  for  each  boy  to  have 
his  sheets,  shirts,  stockings,  etc.,  marked,  to  prevent 
mistakes.'' 

In  the  same  year  (1788)  that  Messrs.  Jones  and 
Worley  opened  their  academy,  Transylvania  Semi- 


310     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

nary  was  moved  from  Danville  to  Lexington,  where 
it  was  located  in  "a  plain,  two-story  brick  building" 
instead  of  the  rough  log  structure  in  which  it  had 
hitherto  been  housed.  In  its  new  home  it  seems  to 
have  prospered  from  the  outset,  and  to  have  met  to  a 
large  extent  the  need  it  was  intended  to  supply. 
"Friday  the  loth  inst.,"  one  reads  in  an  April,  1790, 
issue  of  the  Gazette,  "was  appointed  for  the  examina- 
tion of  the  students  of  the  Transylvania  Seminary  by 
the  trustees.  In  the  presence  of  a  very  respectable 
audience,  several  elegant  speeches  were  delivered  by 
the  boys,  and  in  the  evening  a  tragedy  acted,  and  the 
whole  concluded  with  a  farce.  The  several  masterly 
strokes  of  eloquence,  throughout  the  performance, 
obtained  general  applause,  and  were  acknowledged 
by  a  universal  clap  from  all  present.  The  good  order 
and  decorum  observed  throughout  the  whole,  together 
with  the  rapid  progress  of  the  school  in  literature, 
reflects  very  great  honor  on  the  president." 

This  in  Lexington  in  April,  1790,  not  eight  years 
after  the  fateful  day  when  Tohn  Todd  and  his  men 
in  buckskin  galloped  out  of  its  stockade  gate  to  the 
relief  of  Bryan's  Station  and  the  disastrous  battle  of 
the  Blue  Lick !  Truly  Kentucky  was  making  mar- 
vellous progress.^ 

^  It  may  be  noted  in  passing  that  in  1798,  by  merger  with  the 
Kentucky  Academy,  established  near  Lexington  in  1796,  Tran- 
sylvania Seminary  became  Transylvania  University.     This  name 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  311 

Nor  was  the  activity  of  the  settlers  along  educa- 
tional Hnes  confined  to  the  estabhshing  of  schools. 
Towards  the  close  of  1787,  the  "Kentucky  Society 
for  Promoting  Useful  Knowledge"  was  organized 
by  the  joint  efforts  of  a  number  of  pubUc-spirited 
citizens  of  Lexington,  Louisville,  Danville,  and  other 
towns;  and  in  1795  a  pubHc  hbrary  was  opened  in 
Lexington.  Books,  it  would  seem,  and  of  a  most 
varied  character,  were  widely  read.  At  all  events, 
The  Kentucky  Gazette  and  The  Rights  of  Man,  or 
Kentucky  Mercury,  3.  newspaper  founded  at  Paris  in 
1797,  contain  advertisements  of  books  for  sale  by 
local  merchants,  who,  in  view  of  the  great  difficulties 
of  transportation,  would  assuredly  not  have  imported 
them  had  there  not  been  considerable  demand. 

In  the  November  17,  1797,  issue  of  the  Mercury,  for 
instance,  Oba  S.  Timberlake  offered  to  the  pubHc 
an  extensive  assortment  of  books,  including  Cook's 
"Voyages,"  Enfield's  "Sermons,"  Price's  "Sermons," 
Paley's  "  Evidences  of  Christianity,"  Milton's 
"Works,"  Carver's  "Travels,"  Goldsmith's  "His- 
tory of  England,"  Harrison's  "Natural  History," 
Franklin's  "Works,"  "Gil  Bias,"  "Irish  Jests,"  and 
"  Rosina,  or  Love  in  a  Cottage." 

it  retained  until  1865  when,  again  by  merger  with  another  institu- 
tion, it  became  Kentucky  University.  Its  history  is  ably  told  in  a 
Filson  Club  publication,  Dr.  Robert  Peter's  "Transylvania  Uni- 
versity." 


312      Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Even  more  miscellaneous  and  more  clearly  in- 
dicative of  an  appreciation  among  eighteenth-cen- 
tury Kentuckians  of  the  best  in  Hterature  are 
the  items  in  an  advertisement  inserted  by  a  Lex- 
ington merchant  in  the  Gazette  of  May  23,  1799, 
listing  such  works  as  Plutarch's  "Lives/'  Homer's 
"Iliad,"  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost"  and  "Paradise 
Regained,"  Bunyan's  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  and 
"The  Holy  War,"  Locke's  "Essay  on  the  Hu- 
man Understanding,"  "The  Spectator,"  Johnson's 
'* Lives,"  Butler's  "Analogy,"  "Robinson  Crusoe," 
and  "EveHna." 

The  newspaper  advertisements  also  leave  no  doubt 
that,  besides  expanding  intellectually,  the  people  of 
Kentucky  rapidly  outgrew  the  primitive  simplicity 
of  costume,  food,  recreations,  household  furnishings, 
etc.,  that  had  prevailed  throughout  the  period  of  first 
settlement.  By  1789  they  were  beginning  to  build 
brick  houses  in  their  larger  towns.  The  same  year 
Kentucky's  classic  sport,  horse  racing,  was  insti- 
tuted at  Lexington,  and  in  1797  a  jockey  club  was 
organized,  as  is  shown  by  an  advertisement  in  the 
Gazette  calling  on  the  subscribers  to  the  Newmarket 
Jockey  Club  to  meet  for  the  purpose  of  establishing 
rules  and  regulations.  Also  in  1797  a  theatre  was 
opened  in  Lexington.  Articles  of  comfort  and  luxury 
were  imported  in  constantly  increasing  quantity  and 
variety.     In  1796  Benjamin  Cox,  a  Lexington  trades- 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  313 

man,  announced  through  the  Gazette  that  he  was  pre- 
pared to  supply  his  patrons  with  — 

"A  handsome  assortment  of  dry  goods  and  hard- 
ware —  amongst  which  are  a  few  sets  of  saddler's 
and  shoemaker's  tools  complete.  A  most  elegant 
assortment  of  milliner's  work,  such  as  bonnets,  hats, 
caps,  feathers,  and  a  number  of  other  handsome 
pieces  of  ornament  for  ladies.  Together  with  a  few^ 
lady's  watch  chains  and  gold  ear-rings,  all  of  the 
newest  fashion.  Also  a  large  and  general  assort- 
ment of  medicine,  amongst  which  is  the  following 
patent  medicine  —  to  wit,  castor,  sweet,  and  British 
oil,  Godfrey's  cordial,  Bateman's  drops,  Turlington's 
balsam  of  life,  Anderson's  pills.  Also  madder,  alum, 
whiting,  ink  powder,  and  a  quantity  of  excellent 
sponge;  together  with  a  number  of  other  things  too 
tedious  to  mention." 

Three  years  later,  to  quote  a  second  advertise- 
ment illustrative  of  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
Kentuckians  progressed  out  of  the  era  of  cabin 
homes,  linsey  and  buckskin  clothes,  and  plain 
viands,  another  Lexington  merchant  Hsted  in  the 
Gazette :  — 

"Young  Hyson  tea,  pepper,  nutmegs,  copperas, 
alum,  indigo,  arnotto,  iron,  lead,  glass  bottles, 
window  glass,  slates,  pins  and  needles,  teakettles, 
bell-metal  skillets  for  preserving,  padlocks,  muslins, 
writing-paper,  pocket-books,  spelling-books.   Bibles 


314     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  testaments,  Watson's  Apology  for  the  Bible, 
black  silk  mode,  black  satin,  wool  and  fur  hats,  an 
elegant  horseman's  sword,  whips,  casimirs,  flannels, 
Scotch  snuff,  and  tobacco." 

Other  advertisements  of  earlier  date  show  that  there 
was  a  lively  demand  for  artisans  of  all  sorts.  Immi- 
gration societies  were  organized  in  Lexington,  Louis- 
ville, Washington,  and  elsewhere,  to  make  known  the 
opportunities  open  in  Kentucky  to  skilled  mechanics 
as  well  as  to  agriculturalists.  The  price-lists  pubHshed 
by  these  societies  reveal  even  more  clearly  than  the 
ordinary  business  announcements  the  far-reaching 
change  in  social  conditions  that  developed  with  the 
coming  of  the  army  of  home-seekers  who  took  pos- 
session of  Kentucky  in  the  years  immediately  follow- 
ing the  Revolution. 

By  1797,  it  appears,  carpenters  and  house-painters 
were  assured  of  constant  and  remunerative  occupa- 
tion; shoemakers  could  find  steady  employment 
manufacturing  "boots  and  bootees";  hat-makers 
were  needed  to  provide  the  Kentuckians  with  *'  beaver, 
castor,  smooth,  rabbit,  and  wool"  hats;  tailors  to 
garb  them  in  "great  coats,  strait  coats,  coatees,  sur- 
touts,  waistcoats,  and  breeches,"  and  cabinet-makers 
to  install  in  their  homes  "dining  tables,  breakfast 
tables,  card-tables,  buffets,  sideboards,  bookcases, 
bureaus,  cases  of  drawers,  clock-cases,  and  bed- 
steads." 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  315 

At  first,  of  course,  it  was  only  in  and  about  the 
towns  that  the  new  and  more  elaborate  mode  of  liv- 
ing was  in  evidence.  There  were  plenty  of  thinly 
settled  districts  —  just  as,  for  that  matter,  there  are 
in  Kentucky  to-day  —  where  the  inhabitants  still 
lived  in  the  most  primitive  fashion  imaginable.  But, 
speaking  generally,  in  the  more  desirable  sections  of 
the  State  the  old  order  of  things  had  vanished  before 
1800,  never  to  return.  And,  as  may  be  imagined, 
there  were  many  of  the  original  settlers  who  bitterly 
deplored  and  resented  the  innovations  forced  upon 
them.  In  1797,  when  money  was  particularly  scarce 
in  Kentucky,  a  series  of  articles  appeared  in  The 
Kentucky  Herald,  charging  that  the  "hard  times" 
were  due  to  nothing  so  much  as  the  **  change  in  the 
manners"  of  the  people. 

"During  the  first  period  of  its  settlement,"  the 
writer  declared,  "the  inhabitants  expected  and 
wished  for  nothing  but  what  was  the  produce  of 
the  country.  Men  and  women  exerted  themselves 
to  the  utmost  to  bring  to  perfection  such  necessary 
articles  as  the  climate  and  soil  were  capable  of  pro- 
ducing. .  .  .  The  table  was  entirely  furnished  with 
the  produce  of  the  country;  and  very  few  articles 
of  clothing,  or  of  woollen  or  linen  for  domestic 
use,  were  brought  from  any  other  country.  .  .  . 
But  as  soon  as  great  sums  of  money  were  intro- 
duced,   by    the    markets    caused    by    the    Indian 


3i6     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

war/  a  change  took  place  in  our  manners;  a 
change  which,  although  not  very  great  at  first,  has 
been  gradually  increasing,  until  we  now  no  longer 
resemble  the  people  we  were  during  the  first  period. 

"The  money  which  was  then  received  for  the 
cattle  and  horses  which  had  been  raised  by  the  joint 
care  of  the  whole  family  was  to  be  expended  in  the 
way  which  would  give  most  pleasure  to  all.  Pride 
then  commenced  its  operations  and  induced  them  to 
prove  the  superiority  of  their  wealth  by  the  purchasing 
to  the  greatest  amount  of  those  articles  of  foreign 
luxury  which  had  before  been  equally  unused  by  all. 
These  articles  when  purchased  would  not  have  an- 
swered the  purpose  for  which  they  were  intended 
unless  they  had  been  exhibited  to  public  view;  this 
established  an  universal  desire  to  show  the  greatest 
value  in  these  articles.  By  this  means  home  manu- 
factures became  disreputable.  Those  were  con- 
sidered as  poor  or  mean  who  appeared  in  them,  and 
it  soon  became  as  uncommon  a  sight  to  see  a  coat  or  a 
gown  made  of  them  as  it  formerly  had  been  to  see 
those  articles  made  of  imported  materials.   .  .   . 

"Home  manufactures  were  not  only  discarded 
from  our  dress  but  were  also  laid  aside  in  our  diet; 
none  but  imported  cheese  was  fit  to  be  served  upon  a 

^  The  reference  is  to  the  campaigns  of  Harmar,  St.  Clair,  and 
Wayne  against  the  Ohio  Indians,  1790-94.  The  suppHes  for  the 
troops  were  obtained  largely  from  Kentucky. 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  317 

genteel  table;  country  sugar  did  not  agree  with  their 
stomachs;  and  home-made  spirits  were  so  little  used 
that  even  a  small  quantity  of  them  could  not  be  pro- 
cured but  after  a  diligent  search,  when  wine  and  im- 
ported spirits  were  used  as  freely  as  if  they  flowed 
spontaneously  from  our  springs.  Not  satisfied  with 
these  alterations  they  turned  day  into  night,  and  night 
into  day,  and  every  expensive  and  ridiculous  fashion 
which  was  in  use  in  any  of  the  old  countries  was  intro- 
duced here.  .  .  .  The  degree  of  extravagance  caused 
by  these  changes  in  our  manners  has  been  witnessed 
by  all,  and  felt  by  many.  During  the  short  time 
that  money  was  flowing  in  upon  us  from  all  quarters, 
the  imprudence  of  such  conduct  was  great;  but  to 
continue  it  now,  after  all  the  channels  are  stopped 
through  which  we  were  suppHed  with  the  means  of 
supporting  that  extravagance,  would  be  folly  in  the 
extreme." 

Scant  attention  was  paid  to  censure  like  this.  The 
old  settlers  were  made  to  feel  that  either  they  must 
accommodate  themselves  to  the  altered  conditions  of 
their  environment,  or  seek  elsewhere  the  kind  of  life 
to  which  they  had  always  been  accustomed.  As  a 
result,  many  of  them,  by  temperament  and  training 
fitted  only  for  the  free  and  simple  existence  of  the 
frontier,  departed  from  Kentucky  as  soon  as  it 
began  to  be,  from  their  point  of  view,  uncom- 
fortably   populous.     Among  those    thus    migrating. 


31 8     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

partly  from  necessity  and  partly  from  choice,  was 
Daniel  Boone. 

The  story  of  his  life  in  Kentucky  after  it  had  been 
definitely  won  from  the  red  man  need  not  take  long 
in  the  telling.  Some  time  before  the  battle  of  the 
Blue  Lick  he  left  Boonesborough  with  his  family,  his 
pack-horses,  and  his  dogs,  and  took  up  his  residence 
on  a  sm.all  farm  on  the  other  side  of  the  Kentucky, 
about  five  miles  from  his  first  settlement.  Here  he 
built  a  palisaded  log-house,  known  on  old  maps  of 
Kentucky  as  Boone's  Station,  and  made  his  home 
until  1785,  supporting  himself  by  raising  tobacco, 
surveying,  and  hunting.  It  was  while  he  was  living 
on  this  farm  that  he  gave  Filson  the  material  for  his 
singular  "autobiography,"  the  publication  of  which, 
in  1784,  had  the  effect  of  making  Boone's  name 
known  in  every  part  of  the  United  States,  and  even 
in  foreign  lands. 

But,  brilliant  as  his  reputation  was,  it  could  not  save 
him  from  the  worries  and  troubles  that  he  now  began 
to  experience  in  rapidly  increasing  number.  In  the 
course  of  the  twenty  years  that  had  elapsed  since  the 
opening  of  the  Wilderness  Road  and  the  building  of 
Boonesborough  he  had  acquired  extensive  holdings 
of  land  in  various  parts  of  Kentucky.  Two  thousand 
acres,  the  reader  may  remember,  had  been  given  to 
him  by  the  Transylvania  Company  as  a  reward  for 
his  road-building  services.     In  1780,  this  grant  hav- 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  319 

ing  lapsed  with  the  failure  of  Henderson  and  his 
partners  to  sustain  their  claim  to  Kentucky,  the  Vir- 
ginia Legislature  had  voted  Boone  a  compensatory 
grant  of  a  thousand  acres  in  what  is  now  Bourbon 
County;  and  he  had  preempted  many  thousands  of 
acres  more,  believing,  in  the  words  of  his  biographer, 
Dr.  Thwaites,  that  no  one  would  question  his  right 
to  as  much  land  as  he  cared  to  hold  in  a  wilderness 
which  he  had  done  so  much  to  bring  to  the  attention 
of  the  world. 

Unfortunately,  he  entirely  neglected  to  perfect  his 
claims  in  accordance  with  legal  requirements,  an 
omission  that  was  soon  discovered  by  hawk-eyed 
"claim-jumpers,"  who  did  not  scruple  to  make 
entry  of  Boone's  choice  preemptions  in  their  own 
names.  Suit  after  suit  for  ejectment  was  filed  against 
him,  and,  the  courts  having  no  alternative  but  to  up- 
hold those  who  had  taken  title  in  the  proper  way,  the 
final  outcome  was  to  leave  the  brave  old  hero  without 
an  acre  of  land  in  his  beloved  Kentucky. 

Meanwhile,  in  1786,  he  made  another  removal,  this 
time  to  Maysville,  where  he  opened  a  small  tavern 
and  store,  the  merchandise  for  which  he  and  his  sons 
brought  from  Maryland  by  pack-horse.  Often,  too, 
he  went  on  hunting  and  trapping  expeditions,  or 
traded  up  and  down  the  Ohio,  bartering  his  goods 
for  furs,  skins,  tobacco,  ginseng,  and  other  Kentucky 
products,  which  he  carried  across  the  mountains  and 


320     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

exchanged  for  more  merchandise.  Besides  this,  he 
was  frequently  employed  as  a  scout  and  guide  for  par- 
ties of  immigrants.  Once,  in  1788,  he  took  his  wife 
and  son  Nathan,  then  a  little  fellow  of  eight,  on  a 
horseback  trip  to  Pennsylvania,  where  they  remained 
a  month  visiting  their  relatives  in  Berks  County.  On 
his  return,  learning  that  the  courts  were  still  deciding 
against  him  in  the  matter  of  the  lawsuits,  and  that  he 
had  been  rendered  almost  entirely  landless,  Boone  left 
Maysville,  vowing  never  more  to  live  in  Kentucky, 
and  established  himself  in  the  western  Virginia  set- 
tlement of  Point  Pleasant,  at  the  juncture  of  the 
Ohio  and  the  Kanawha  rivers. 

Here  he  was  once  more  in  a  typical  frontier  com- 
munity, and  was  received  with  an  enthusiasm  that 
must  have  been  most  pleasing  to  him.  He  had  not 
been  in  his  new  home  more  than  a  year,  when,  as  the 
result  of  a  popular  petition,  he  was  appointed  lieu- 
tenant-colonel of  Kanawha  County.  In  1791,  as  a 
further  mark  of  the  esteem  in  which  the  Kanawha 
Valley  people  held  him,  he  was  elected  to  the  Virginia 
Assembly,  an  honor  which  he  had  enjoyed  twice  be- 
fore, once  when  Boonesborough  was  in  its  prime,  and 
later  while  he  was  living  in  Maysville.  The  records 
of  the  Assembly  for  1791  show  that  he  served  on  two 
then  important  committees  —  the  committee  on 
religion  and  the  committee  on  propositions  and  li- 
censes.    But  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  he  took 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  321 

any  part  in  the  Assembly  debates  other  than  to  vote 
on  bills  brought  up  for  consideration. 

Before  the  Assembly  adjourned  word  arrived  of 
the  disaster  that  had  overtaken  Governor  St.  Clair's 
ill-starred  expedition  against  the  Indian  towns  on  the 
Miami,  and  with  praiseworthy  promptitude  it  was 
voted  to  send  a  large  supply  of  ammunition  to  the 
militia  on  the  Monongahela  and  the  Kanawha,  who 
were  to  be  called  out  to  defend  the  frontier  against 
the  Indian  raids  which  it  was  expected  would  im- 
mediately follow  St.  Clair's  defeat.  This  drew  from 
Boone  another  of  his  strangely  misspelled,  but  his- 
torically valuable,  letters. 

"Sir,"  he  wrote  to  the  governor  of  Virginia,  **as 
sum  person  Must  Carry  out  the  armantstion  (ammu- 
nition] to  Red  Stone  if  your  Exclency  should 
have  thought  me  a  proper  person  I  would  under- 
take it  on  conditions  I  have  the  apintment  to  vitel  the 
company  at  Kanhowway  so  that  I  Could  take  Down 
the  flowre  as  I  paste  that  place  I  am  your  Excelencey's 
most  obedent  omble  servant  Daniel  Boone." 

Five  days  later,  December  18,  1791,  his  offer  was 
accepted,  and  he  set  out  for  Red  Stone,  now  Browns- 
ville, Pennsylvania.  But  for  some  reason  he  failed 
to  deliver  the  necessary  rations  to  the  Kanawha 
troops.  Nor,  unlike  his  old  friend  Simon  Kenton, 
who  had  settled  near  Washington,  Kentucky,  does 
he  seem  to  have  participated  in  the  Indian  wars  in 


322     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

Ohio.  Scarcely  anything,  in  fact,  is  known  of  his 
life  during  the  years  1792-98,  except  that  he  moved 
his  residence  from  Point  Pleasant  to  a  settlement 
farther  up  the  Kanawha,  near  the  site  of  Charleston, 
West  Virginia ;  roamed  and  hunted  as  of  old,  and  was 
a  frequent  visitor  to  the  now  rapidly  growing  towns 
on  the  Ohio,  where  his  fame  invariably  drew  about 
him  a  group  of  newcomers,  eager  to  hear  from  his 
own  lips  the  story  of  his  adventures  in  Kentucky. 
Several  of  those  who  thus  met  him  for  the  first  time 
have  left  brief  accounts  of  the  impression  he  made  on 
them. 

"  It  is  now,"  records  one,  writing  in  1 847, "  fifty-four 
years  since  I  first  saw  Daniel  Boone.  He  was  then 
about  sixty  years  old,  of  a  medium  size,  say  five  feet 
ten  inches,  not  given  to  corpulency,  retired,  unob- 
trusive, and  a  man  of  few  words.  My  acquaintance 
was  made  with  him  in  the  winter  season,  and  I  well 
remember  his  dress  was  made  of  tow  cloth,  and  not  a 
woollen  garment  on  his  body,  unless  his  stockings 
were  of  that  material.  ...  I  slept  four  nights  in  the 
house  of  one  West,  with  Boone;  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  strangers,  and  he  was  constantly  occupied  in 
answering  questions." 

Another  writes  that  "his  large  head,  full  chest, 
square  shoulders,  and  stout  form  are  still  impressed 
upon  my  mind.  He  was  (I  think)  about  five  feet  ten 
inches  in  height,  and  his  weight  say  one  hundred  and 


Kentucky  after  the  Revolution  323 

seventy-five  pounds.  He  v^as  solid  in  mind  as  well 
as  in  body,  never  frivolous,  thoughtless,  or  agitated; 
but  was  always  quiet,  meditative,  and  impressive,  un- 
pretentious, kind,  and  friendly  in  his  manner.  He 
came  very  much  up  to  the  idea  we  have  of  the  old 
Grecian  philosophers  —  particularly  Diogenes." 

The  great  naturalist  Audubon,  who  happened  to 
pass  a  night  with  Boone  in  a  West  Virginia  cabin, 
declared  that  "the  stature  and  general  appearance 
of  this  wanderer  of  the  Western  forests  approached 
the  gigantic.  His  chest  was  broad  and  prominent; 
his  muscular  powers  displayed  themselves  in  every 
limb;  his  countenance  gave  indication  of  his  great 
courage,  enterprise,  and  perseverance;  and  when  he 
spoke,  the  very  motion  of  his  hps  brought  the  impres- 
sion that  whatever  he  uttered  could  not  be  otherwise 
than  strictly  true.''^ 

But,  popular  and  revered  though  he  was,  it  cannot 
be  said  that  Boone's  life  was  a  happy  one.  Even 
the  Kanawha  Valley,  now  filling  up  with  population, 
had  grown  distasteful  to  him.  He  longed,  as  always, 
for  the  frontier,  for  the  serenity  of  the  unbroken  for- 
est, abounding  with  game.  He  missed  the  warm 
friendships,  the  close  companionships,  of  the  men  by 

^  The  first  of  these  descriptions  is  quoted  from  Howe's  "  Histori- 
cal Collections  of  Ohio,"  the  second  from  Dr.  Thwaites's  "  Daniel 
Boone,"  the  third  from  Maria  R.  Audubon's  "Audubon  and  his 
Journals." 


324     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

whose  side  he  had  lived  and  fought  in  the  old  Boones- 
borough  days.  To  fill  the  cup  of  his  unhappiness, 
his  few  remaining  land-holdings  in  Kentucky,  which 
had  escaped  the  rapacity  of  the  "claim-jumpers," 
were  sold  at  auction  in  1798  because  of  his  inabihty 
to  pay  taxes  on  them.  In  his  wrath  and  bitterness 
of  heart  he  declared  that  he  would  no  longer  endure 
a  civilization  that  had  proved  so  cruel  to  him,  but 
would  advance  again  into  the  wilderness. 

Westward  once  more,  therefore,  he  made  his  way, 
embarking  on  the  Kanawha  with  his  family,  to 
voyage  by  flatboat  to  Missouri,  whither  his  oldest 
surviving  son,  Daniel  Morgan,  had  already  gone.  It 
is  said  that  on  the  day  set  for  his  departure  there  was 
a  great  gathering  of  pioneers  to  bid  him  an  affection- 
ate farewell.  From  the  Kanawha  he  sailed  leisurely 
down  the  Ohio,  putting  in  at  various  river  towns  to 
buy  provisions  and  visit  old  friends.  At  Cincinnati, 
the  story  goes,  somebody  asked  him  why,  at  his  time 
of  life,  he  wished  to  expose  himself  again  to  the  dan- 
gers and  hardships  of  the  frontier. 

"  It  is  too  crowded  here,"  he  grimly  replied.  "I 
want  more  elbow-room." 

Sturdy,  brave,  self-reliant  as  ever,  he  journeyed  on, 
steadily  westward,  in  search  of  the  contentment  and 
peace  of  mind  that  had  vanished  with  the  ruin  of  his 
hopes  in  Kentucky. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 
boone's  last  years 

MISSOURI  was  then,  and  had  been  since 
1763,  a  Spanish  possession,  but  the  major- 
ity of  its  white  inhabitants  were  French. 
They  were  the  same  care-free,  Hght-hearted,  irrespon- 
sible type  of  people  that  George  Rogers  Clark  had 
found  at  Kaskaskia,  Cahokia,  and  Vincennes,  dwell- 
ing in  small  log-cabin  settlements,  practising  a  crude 
agriculture,  and  apparently  regarding  life  as  though 
it  were  one  long  perpetual  holiday.  At  first  disposed 
to  resent  the  enforced  transfer  of  their  allegiance  from 
France  to  Spain,  they  soon  reconciled  themselves  to 
the  change,  precisely  as  the  French  of  the  Illinois 
country  had  done  after  Clark's  conquest.  As  Boone 
discovered  on  his  arrival  in  Missouri,  they  were  still 
leading  an  almost  patriarchal  existence,  grazing  their 
flocks  and  herds  on  pastures  held  in  common  by  all, 
and  supplying  their  further  wants  by  hunting  and 
trapping  and  by  barter  with  the  Indians,  with  whom 
they  were  on  the  most  friendly  terms.  The  sim- 
plicity of  their  nature  was  reflected  in  the  appearance 
of  their  towns,  the  largest  of  which,  St.  Louis,  was  a 

32s 


326     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

mere  village,  extremely  picturesque  but  quite  unlike 
the  bustling  centres  of  industrial  and  commercial  en- 
terprise so  rapidly  arising  on  the  American  side  of  the 
Mississippi. 

To  Boone,  however,  fleeing  from  the  hubbub  and 
turmoil  of  the  fast-peopling  Middle  West,  the  ab- 
sence of  all  signs  of  progress  was  a  welcome  relief. 
He  was  still  further  gladdened  by  the  reception  given 
him  by  the  Spanish  authorities  at  St.  Louis,  the  capi- 
tal of  Upper  Louisiana,  of  which  Missouri  was  a  part. 
In  answer  to  his  request  for  a  grant  of  land,  he  was 
given,  free  of  charge,  a  farm  of  about  eight  hundred 
and  fifty  acres  in  the  choice  but  sparsely  inhabited 
Femme  Osage  District,  where  his  son  and  some  other 
adventurous  Americans  had  located;  and,  in  1800, 
was  appointed  syndic,  or  magistrate,  an  office  which 
he  retained  until  the  cession  of  Louisiana  to  the 
United  States. 

As  syndic  he  was  the  most  important  official  in 
Femme  Osage,  and  dispensed  justice  with  such  an 
even  hand  as  to  win  not  only  the  respect  of  the  French 
and  American  settlers,  but  the  warm  commendation 
of  the  lieutenant-governor  of  Upper  Louisiana, 
Charles  Dehault  Delassus.  In  a  list  of  syndics  which 
he  drew  up  in  1804,  Delassus  referred  to  Boone  as 
"Mr.  Boone,  a  respectable  old  man,  just  and  impar- 
tial, who  has  already,  since  I  appointed  him,  offered 
his  resignation  owing  to  his  infirmities  —  believing  I 


Boone's  Last  Years  327 

know  his  probity  I  have  induced  him  to  remain,  in 
view  of  my  confidence  in  him,  for  the  pubHc  good." 

As  may  be  imagined,  Boone's  perform.ance  of  his 
duties  as  syndic  was  most  unconventional.  He  knew 
absolutely  nothing  of  legal  procedure,  except  what  he 
had  gained  through  his  unpleasant  experiences  in  the 
courts  of  Kentucky.  There  were  no  lawyers  in  the 
Femme  Osage  District,  and  if  there  had  been,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  Boone  would  have  allowed  them  to 
plead  before  him,  so  prejudiced  was  he  against  all 
lawyers,  to  whose  cunning  devices  he  attributed  the 
loss  of  his  lands.  In  every  case,  therefore,  that  came 
to  him  for  settlement,  he  acted  as  judge,  jury,  and 
counsel.  He  examined  and  cross-examined  the  wit- 
nesses, without  the  slightest  regard  for  the  laws  of 
evidence;  imposed  whatever  penalties  he  saw  fit, 
sometimes  to  the  extent  of  a  sound  flogging;  and 
permitted  no  appeal  from  his  decisions.  Withal,  ac- 
cording to  contemporary  accounts,  he  conducted  him- 
self with  the  greatest  dignity,  and  displayed  such  un- 
failing fairness  and  good  sense  that  the  longer  he  was 
a  syndic,  the  more  respected  he  became. 

Only  a  small  part  of  his  time  was  taken  up  by  the 
cares  of  office,  leaving  him  with  plenty  of  leisure  for 
his  favorite  occupation  of  hunting  and  trapping. 
Every  winter  he  left  his  cabin  on  Femme  Osage 
Creek,  and,  accompanied  by  one  or  the  other  of  his 
sons,   wandered   off  to  the  great  game   fields  that 


328     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness   Road 

stretched  for  hundreds  of  miles  north  and  south  of 
the  Missouri.  Advancing  years  had  somewhat 
dimmed  his  eyesight,  and  brought  a  slight  tremor  to 
his  powerful  hands;  but  despite  the  weaknesses  of 
age,  his  marksmanship  still  excelled  that  of  many  far 
younger  men.  And  he  was  still  as  keen  for  the  chase 
as  in  the  long-gone  days  of  his  boyhood  when,  a 
little  lad  of  ten  or  twelve,  he  had  wielded  his  knob- 
rooted  sapling  to  such  deadly  effect  against  the 
squirrels  and  chipmunks  of  Oley  Township.  In 
the  summer  he  travelled  about,  visiting  friends,  or 
holding  court  in  various  settlements.  It  was  a  life 
that  exactly  suited  him.  Indeed,  he  was  afterwards 
heard  to  say  that  his  first  years  in  Missouri  were  the 
happiest  he  had  known  since  his  long  hunt  in  Ken- 
tucky with  John  Finley. 

In  faraway  Europe,  however,  important  political 
events  were  transpiring  that  were  destined  to  bring 
sorrow  and  suffering  to  him  once  more.  In  1800 
the  mighty  Napoleon,  who  dreamed  of  restoring 
France's  lost  empire  in  the  New  World,  persuaded 
Spain  to  retrocede  to  France  the  whole  of  vast  Louisi- 
ana in  exchange  for  an  Italian  principality.  Before 
the  exchange  was  formally  completed,  it  became  cer- 
tain that  war  would  soon  break  out  between  France 
and  England,  and,  lacking  command  of  the  sea, 
Napoleon  at  once  realized  that  he  would  have  to 
abandon  his  cherished  colonial  enterprise.     Instead 


Boone*s  Last  Years 


329 


of  handing  Louisiana  back  to  Spain,  he  offered  to  sell 
it  to  the  United  States,  which  had  already  sent  com- 
missioners to  France  to  negotiate  for  the  purchase  of 
New  Orleans  and  Florida.  His  offer  was  promptly 
accepted,  and  a  treaty  signed  conveying  Louisiana 
to  the  United  States  and  thereby  doubling  the  area  of 
the  youthful  Republic  at  a  cost  of  only  fifteen  million 
dollars. 

It  was  a  great  day's  work  for  the  American  people, 
but  it  was  disastrous  to  Daniel  Boone.  With  the 
raising  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  at  St.  Louis,  March  10, 
1 804,  his  authority  and  emoluments  as  a  syndic  ceased ; 
and,  what  was  a  far  more  serious  matter,  the  change 
of  sovereignty  involved  him  in  a  bitter  struggle  to 
keep  possession  of  his  farm  in  Femme  Osage.  Accord- 
ing to  the  Spanish  law  regarding  land  grants,  every 
settler  was  required,  in  order  to  insure  a  permanent 
holding,  to  occupy  and  cultivate  his  grant  within  a 
certain  time.  Boone,  who  had  been  living  near  but 
not  on  his  farm,  had  failed  to  comply  with  this  pro- 
viso, having  been  assured,  as  he  told  the  American 
commissioners  appointed  to  investigate  the  titles  of 
Louisiana  settlers,  that  syndics  were  exempt  from 
the  requirement  of  settlement  and  cultivation.  But, 
after  reserving  judgment  for  some  time,  the,  commis- 
sioners finally  decided  that  their  instructions  were  too 
explicit  to  permit  them  to  make  any  exception  in  his 
favor,  and  he  was  thus  left,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five, 


330     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

and  after  a  career  of  exploration  and  pioneering  un- 
surpassed by  any  man  of  his  generation,  without  a 
foot  of  land  that  he  could  call  his  own. 

Aid  now  came  to  him  from  an  unexpected  source. 
At  the  time  of  his  removal  to  Missouri,  Boone  had 
a  number  of  small  debts  outstanding  against  him  in 
Kentucky,  and  in  1810,  having  had  a  most  successful 
season  trapping  beavers,  he  made  a  last  journey  to 
his  old  haunts  for  the  express  purpose  of  settling 
these  obhgations.  Tradition  has  it  that  he  returned 
with  only  half  a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  but  happy  in 
the  thought  that,  "No  one  can  say,  when  I  am  gone, 
*  Boone  was  a  dishonest  man.'  "  He  also  brought 
back  the  cheering  consciousness  that  the  people  of 
Kentucky  were  beginning  to  appreciate  what  they 
and  the  nation  owed  to  his  heroic  labors  as  a  path- 
finder and  defender  of  the  West,  and  were  willing 
to  assist  him  in  his  efforts  to  regain  his  Missouri 
grant.  He  therefore  addressed  to  the  Kentucky 
Legislature,  in  1812,  a  memorial  begging  that  body  to 
help  him  in  securing  from  Congress  a  reversal  of  the 
commissioners'  judgment. 

In  his  petition,  which  was  quite  long,  he  declared 
that  "the  history  of  the  settlement  of  the  western 
country  was  his  history,"  and  reminded  the  legislators 
of  his  struggles  "in  the  fatal  fields  which  were  dyed 
with  the  blood  of  the  early  settlers,  amongst  whom 
were  his  two  oldest  sons,  and  others  of  his  dearest  con- 


Boone's  Last  Years 


Z?^^ 


nections."  He  alluded  briefly  to  his  misfortunes  in 
Kentucky,  when,  "unacquainted  with  the  niceties  of 
the  law,  the  few  lands  he  was  enabled  to  locate  were, 
through  his  ignorance,  generally  swallowed  up  by 
better  claims/'  He  then  told  of  the  similar  loss  he 
had  recently  suffered  in  Missouri,  stated  that  he  had 
appealed  to  Congress  for  relief,  and  added :  — 

"Your  memoralist  cannot  but  feel,  so  long  as 
feeling  remains,  that  he  has  a  just  claim  upon  his 
country  for  land  to  live  on,  and  to  transmit  to  his 
children  after  him.  He  cannot  help,  on  an  occasion 
like  this,  to  look  towards  Kentucky.  From  a  small 
acorn  she  has  become  a  mighty  oak,  furnishing  shel- 
ter to  upwards  of  four  hundred  thousand  souls. 
Very  different  is  her  appearance  now  from  the  time 
when  your  memoriahst,  with  his  little  band,  began  to 
fell  the  forest  and  construct  the  rude  fortification  at 
Boonesborough." 

Referred  to  a  committee  of  the  Senate,  the  memo- 
rial was  made  the  basis  of  a  resolution  —  which  was 
adopted  without  a  division  by  both  branches  of  the 
Legislature  —  instructing  Kentucky's  representatives 
at  Washington  to  use  every  effort  to  induce  Congress 
"  to  procure  a  grant  of  land  in  said  territory  to  said 
Boone,"  since  "it  is  as  unjust  as  it  is  impoHtic  that 
useful  enterprise  and  eminent  services  should  go  un- 
rewarded." Reenforced  by  this  resolution,  Boone's 
appeal  to  Congress  was  successful.     December  24, 


332 


Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 


1813,  the  committee  on  public  lands,  which  had 
taken  his  petition  under  consideration,  reported  to  the 
House  of  Representatives  that  "as  the  petitioner  was 
induced  to  omit  settlement  and  cultivation  by  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  said  Delassus  that  it  was  unnecessary, 
his  claim  ought  not  on  that  account  to  be  rendered 
invalid,"  and  "it  also  appears  to  the  committee  that 
the  petitioner  is  in  his  old  age,  and  has  in  early  life 
rendered  to  his  country  arduous  and  useful  ser- 
vices; and  ought  not,  therefore,  to  be  deprived  of 
this  remaining  resource  by  a  rigorous  execution 
of  a  provision  of  our  statute,  designed  to  prevent 
frauds  on  the  Government."  A  few  weeks  later,  by 
congressional  enactment,  Boone  was  confirmed  in 
the  possession  of  his  Spanish  grant. ^ 

Before  this  act  of  justice  was  done  him,  he  had  sus- 
tained the  greatest  loss  of  his  career,  in  the  death,  in 
18 13,  of  his  faithful  wife  Rebecca,  who  had,  no  less 
courageously  than  he,  braved  the  perils  of  Indian- 
infested  Kentucky,  had  shared  with  him  the  horrors 
of  the  border  wars,  and  had  supported  and  cheered 
him  with  loving  devotion  throughout  the  years  of  his 

^  The  documents  relating  to  Boone's  appeal  are  contained  in 
"American  State  Papers  —  Public  Lands,"  Vol.  II.  It  appears 
that  he  first  appealed  to  Congress  as  early  as  1807,  or  before  the 
commissioners  had  finally  decided  against  him;  and  that  his 
petition  was  favorably  reported  in  18 10,  but  was  not  then  followed 
by  the  necessary  legislative  action. 


Boone's  Last  Years  333 

accumulating  misfortunes.  After  her  death  Boone 
removed  to  the  home  of  his  daughter  Jemima,  who, 
with  her  husband,  Flanders  Callaway,  had  come  to 
Missouri  from  Kentucky  soon  after  the  cession  of 
Louisiana  to  the  United  States.  But,  even  in  extreme 
old  age,  he  was  of  too  roving  a  disposition  to  remain 
long  in  any  one  place.  Much  of  his  time  he  spent  at 
the  homes  of  his  sons,  Daniel  Morgan  and  Nathan. 
It  was  while  he  was  on  a  visit  to  Nathan,  in  the 
autumn  of  18 16,  that  he  wrote  to  his  sister-in-law, 
Sarah  Boone,  wife  of  his  brother  Samuel,  a  letter 
now  among  the  most  treasured  possessions  of  the 
Wisconsin  State  Historical  Society,  and  valuable  as 
providing  the  only  personal  account  extant  of  his 
religious  beliefs. 

"Deer  Sister,"  the  aged  pioneer  began,  "with 
pleasuer  I  Red  a  Later  from  your  Sun  Samuel  Boone 
who  informs  me  that  you  are  yett  Liveing  and  in 
good  health  Considing  your  age  I  wright  to  you  to 
Latt  you  know  I  have  Not  forgot  you  and  to  inform 
you  of  my  own  Situation  Sence  the  Death  of  your 
Sister  Rabacah  I  live  with  flanders  Calaway  But  am 
at  present  with  my  Sun  Nathan  and  in  tolerabel  halth 
you  can  gass  at  my  feilings  by  your  own  as  we  are  So 
Near  one  age  I  Need  Not  write  you  of  our  Satuation  as 
Samuel  Bradley  or  James  grimes  Can  inform  you  of 
Every  Surcumstance  Relating  to  our  family  and  how 
we  Live  in  this  World  and  what  Chance  we  Shall 


334     Daniel  Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

have  in  the  next  we  know  Not  for  my  part  I  am  as  ig- 
nerant  as  a  Child  all  the  Relegan  I  have  to  Love  and 
feer  god  believe  in  Jesus  Christ  Do  all  the  good  to  my 
Nighbours  and  my  Self  that  I  can  and  Do  as  Little 
harm  as  I  can  help  and  trust  on  god's  mercy  for  the 
rest  and  I  beleve  god  never  made  a  man  of  my  prin- 
spel  to  be  Lost  and  I  flater  my  Self  Deer  Sister  that 
you  are  well  on  your  way  in  Cristineaty  gave  my  Love 
to  your  Childran  and  all  my  friends  fearwell  Deer 
Sister." ' 

To  the  last  Boone  retained  his  fondness  for  life  in 
the  open,  and  almost  to  the  last  continued  his  hunt- 
ing excursions,  making  long  trips  into  the  Western 
wilderness.  As  late  as  1816,  when  he  was  eighty- 
two,  he  was  seen  in  Nebraska  "in  the  dress  of  the 
roughest,  poorest  hunter.''  He  even  talked,  when 
Missouri  began  to  increase  too  rapidly  in  population 
to  suit  him,  of  removing  still  farther  west,  but  his  sons 
would  not  let  him  depart.  They  could  not  induce 
him,  however,  to  forego  his  hunts,  which,  during  and 
after  the  War  of  18 12,  were  by  no  means  free  from 
danger,  owing  to  the  increasing  hostility  of  the  trans- 
Mississippi  Indians.  According  to  his  biographer. 
Dr.  Peck,  he  was  at  least  once  attacked  by  a  small 
party  of  Osages,  but,  with  the  aid  of  a  negro  servant, 
managed  to  beat  them  off.      On  another  occasion  he 

*  This  letter  is  quoted  from  Dr.  Thwaites's  "  Daniel  Boone,"  in 
which  it  is  reproduced  in  facsimile. 


Boone's  Last  Years  335 

was  forced  to  keep  in  hiding  several  days,  to  avoid 
discovery  by  a  band  of  hostile  reds,  hunting  in  his 
vicinity. 

To  Dr.  Peck  we  are  indebted  for  an  interesting 
pen-portrait  of  Boone  in  these  closing  years.  "It 
was  in  the  month  of  December,  18 18,''  he  says, 
"that  the  author  of  this  memoir,  while  performing 
the  duty  of  an  itinerant  minister  of  the  gospel  in  the 
frontier  settlements  of  Missouri,  saw  for  the  first  time 
this  venerable  pioneer.  1  he  preceding  day  had  been 
spent  in  the  settlement  of  Femme  Osage,  where  Mr. 
Callaway,  with  whom  Boone  lived,  met  and  accom- 
panied the  writer  to  Charette  village,  a  French  ham- 
let situated  on  the  north  side  of  the  Missouri,  adjacent 
to  which  was  his  residence.  On  his  introduction  to 
Colonel  Boone,  the  impressions  were  those  of  surprise, 
admiration,  and  delight.  In  boyhood  he  had  read 
of  Daniel  Boone,  the  pioneer  of  Kentucky,  the  cele- 
brated hunter  and  Indian  fighter;  and  imagination 
had  portrayed  a  rough,  fierce-looking,  uncouth  speci- 
men of  humanity,  and,  of  course,  at  this  period  of 
life,  a  fretful  and  unattractive  old  man. 

"But  in  every  respect  the  reverse  appeared.  His 
high,  bold  forehead  was  slightly  bald,  and  his  silvered 
locks  were  combed  smooth;  his  countenance  was 
ruddy  and  fair,  and  exhibited  the  simplicity  of  a 
child.  His  voice  was  soft  and  melodious.  A  smile 
frequently  played  over  his  features  in  conversation. 


33^     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

At  repeated  interviews  an  irritable  expression  was 
never  heard.  His  clothing  was  the  coarse,  plain 
manufacture  of  the  family;  but  everything  about  him 
denoted  that  kind  of  comfort  which  was  congenial  to 
his  habits  and  feelings,  and  evinced  a  happy  old  age. 
His  room  was  part  of  a  range  of  log-cabins,  kept  in 
order  by  his  affectionate  daughter  and  granddaugh- 
ters. 

"Every  member  of  the  household  appeared  to  de- 
light in  administering  to  his  comforts.  He  was  so- 
ciable, communicative  in  replying  to  questions,  but 
not  in  introducing  incidents  of  his  own  history.  He 
was  intelligent,  for  he  had  treasured  up  the  experi- 
ence and  observations  of  more  than  fourscore  years. 
In  these  interviews  every  incident  of  his  life  might  have 
been  drawn  from  his  lips;  but,  veneration  being  the 
predominant  feeling  which  his  presence  excited,  no 
more  than  a  few  brief  notes  were  taken. 

"  He  spoke  feelingly,  and  with  solemnity,  of  being 
a  creature  of  Providence,  ordained  by  Heaven  as  a 
pioneer  in  the  wilderness  to  advance  the  civiHzation 
and  the  extension  of  his  country.  He  appeared  to 
have  entered  into  the  wilderness  with  no  comprehen- 
sive views  or  extensive  plans  of  future  improvement; 
he  aimed  not  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  state  or  na- 
tion; but  still  he  professed  the  belief  that  the  Al- 
mighty had  assigned  to  him  a  work  to  perform,  and 
that  he  had  only  followed  the  pathway  of  duty  in  the 


Boone's  Last  Years  337 

course  he  had  pursued.  He  gave  no  evidence  of 
superstition,  manifested  no  religious  credulity,  told  of 
no  remarkable  dreams  and  strange  impressions,  as 
is  common  with  superstitious  and  illiterate  people, 
but  only  expressed  an  internal  satisfaction  that  he 
had  discharged  his  duty  to  God  and  his  country  by 
following  the  direction  of  Providence." 

Others  who  visited  Boone  at  this  time  have  con- 
firmed Dr.  Peck's  highly  favorable  estimate.  The 
Rev.  James  Welch,  another  frontier  clergyman,  says 
that  he  was  "soft  and  quiet  in  his  manner,"  with 
"but  little  to  say  unless  spoken  to,  sociable  and  kind 
in  his  feehngs,  very  fond  of  quiet  retirement,  of  cool 
self-possession  and  indomitable  perseverance."  Tim- 
othy Fhnt  —  who,  like  Dr.  Peck,  was  one  of  Boone's 
early  biographers,  and  knew  him  in  Missouri  — 
pictures  him  as  "five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  of  a 
very  erect,  clean-Hmbed,  and  athletic  form  —  ad- 
mirably fitted  in  structure,  muscle,  temperament, 
and  habit  for  the  endurance  of  the  labors,  changes, 
and  sufferings  he  underwent.  He  had  what  phrenol- 
ogists would  have  considered  a  model  head  —  with 
a  forehead  pecuharly  high,  noble,  and  bold  —  thin 
and  compressed  hps  —  a  mild,  clear,  blue  eye  —  a 
large  and  prominent  chin,  and  a  general  expression  of 
countenance  in  which  frankness  and  courage  sat 
enthroned.  .  .  .  Never  was  old  age  more  green,  or 
gray  hairs  more  graceful." 


338     Daniel   Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road 

But  the  most  intimate  view  we  possess  of  Boone  in 
his  last  years  is  from  the  pen  of  the  American  artist 
Chester  Harding,  who,  prompted  by  a  patriotic  im- 
pulse, made  a  long  journey  in  18 19  for  the  purpose  of 
painting  Boone's  portrait.  At  the  time  of  Harding's 
visit  Boone  was  temporarily  living  alone  in  an  old 
cabin,  having  apparently  left  home  on  one  of  his 
periodical  outings.  The  artist  found  him  "engaged 
in  cooking  his  dinner.  He  was  lying  in  his  bunk,  near 
the  fire,  and  had  a  long  strip  of  venison  wound  around 
his  ramrod,  and  was  busy  turning  it  before  a  brisk 
blaze,  and  using  salt  and  pepper  to  season  his  meat. 

"I  at  once  told  him  the  object  of  my  visit.  I  found 
that  he  hardly  knew  what  I  meant.  I  explained  the 
matter  to  him,  and  he  agreed  to  sit.  He  was  [nearly] 
ninety  years  old,  and  rather  infirm;  his  memory  of 
passing  events  was  much  impaired,  yet  he  would 
amuse  me  every  day  by  his  anecdotes  of  his  earlier 
life.  I  asked  him  one  day,  just  after  his  description 
of  one  of  his  long  hunts,  if  he  never  got  lost,  having 
no  compass.  '  No,'  said  he,  '  I  can't  say  as  ever  I  was 
lost,  but  I  was  bewildered  once  for  three  days.'  " 

Harding  painted  his  portrait  none  too  soon.  Little 
more  than  a  year  later,  on  September  21,  1820,  Boone 
passed  away,  dying  at  the  home  of  his  son  Nathan. 
The  end,  it  is  said,  came  gradually  and  peacefully, 
without  the  slightest  suffering.  When  he  died,  the 
Missouri  Legislature  was  holding  its  first  session  at 


Boone's  Last  Years 


339 


St.  Louis,  and  upon  hearing  the  news  of  his  death 
the  representatives  adjourned  for  the  day,  after 
adopting  a  resolution  to  wear  a  badge  of  mourning 
twenty  days  out  of  respect  to  his  memory. 

He  was  buried,  in  accordance  with  his  often  ex- 
pressed desire,  by  the  side  of  his  well-loved  Rebecca,  in 
a  grave  on  the  bank  of  a  small  stream.  But,  twenty- 
five  years  afterwards,  in  response  to  a  request  from 
the  Kentucky  Legislature,  the  people  of  Missouri  con- 
sented to  allow  the  removal  of  the  remains  of  both 
Boone  and  his  wife  for  reinterment  in  the  State  so 
immeasurably  indebted  to  their  brave  pioneering. 
September  i8,  1845,  i"  ^he  presence  of  an  enormous 
assemblage  from  all  parts  of  Kentucky,  and  with 
most  impressive  funeral  services,  they  were  laid  at 
rest  in  the  public  cemetery  at  Frankfort,  their  graves 
being  marked  in  after  years  by  a  beautiful  monument. 

No  monument  is  needed,  though,  to  keep  Boone's 
memory  green  in  the  hearts  of  his  fellow-countrymen. 
His  name  will  always  live  in  the  record  of  his  bold  ad- 
venturings,  his  historic  explorations,  his  epoch- 
making  road-building  in  the  trans-Alleghany  wilds, 
to  which  he  above  all  other  men  led  the  advance  of 
civilization. 


INDEX 


Adams,  John,  i37-i39- 

Adams,  Samuel,  137-139. 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  Treaty  of,  22. 

Alamance,  Battle  of,  77  n,  84. 

Alden,  G.  H.,  cited,  91  n. 

Allen,  J.  L.,  quoted,  37,  292. 

American  Revolution,  Kentucky  in, 
152-172,  198-246 ;  George  Rogers 
Clark's  campaign,  173-197 ;  Ten- 
nessee in,  247-263  ;  also  mentioned, 
116  n,  134,  160,  161,  281,  282,  293, 
314- 

Ashe,  G.  A.,  cited,  25  n. 

Asher's  Station,  Tenn.,  267. 

Audubon,  John  J.,  quoted,  323. 

Audubon,  Maria  R.,  cited,  323  n. 

Bassett,  J.  S.,  cited,  50-51  n. 

Benton,  Jesse,  142. 

Benton,  Thomas  Hart,  142. 

Black  Bird,  211,  214. 

Black  Fish,  captures  Boone,  201  ; 
adopts  Boone,  204  ;  attacks  Boones- 
borough,  209-220  ;    killed,  239. 

Black  Hoof,  211,  214. 

Blue  Lick,  Battle  of,  231,  243-244,  231, 
302,  306,  310,  318. 

Boiling  Spring,  Ky.,  founded,  118; 
sends  delegates  to  Boonesborough, 
121  ;  rebels  against  Transylvania 
Company,  144-145  ;  also  men- 
tioned, 119,  131. 

Boone,  Daniel,  ancestry,  1-5  ;  birth,  6  ; 
boyhood,  7-12  ;  removes  to  North 
Carohna,  13  ;  appearance  in  youth, 
15  ;  in  Braddock's  campaign,  25-35  ; 
meets  John  Finley,  29 ;  marries 
Rebecca  Bryan,  38 ;  in  Cherokee 
War,  41-45  ;  first  Western  journey, 
46-48  ;  visited  by  John  Finley,  49  ; 
starts  for  Kentucky,  52  ;  explora- 
tions   in     Kentucky,    54-66 ;     first 


Indian  captivity,  56-58  ;  decides  to 
remove  to  Kentucky,  62  ;  selects 
site  of  home,  84  ;  first  attempt  to 
settle  in  Kentucky,  85-90  ;  in  Lord 
Dunmore's  War,  93-96  ;  employed 
to  build  Wilderness  Road,  100 ; 
adventures   while   building   it,    102- 

111  ;  letter  to  Richard  Henderson, 
108-109  and  71 ;    builds  Fort  Boone, 

112  ;  member  Transylvania  House 
of  Delegates,  121,  125-126  ;  brings 
family  to  Kentucky,  133 ;  given 
land  by  Transylvania  Company,  135  ; 
attitude  to  Henderson,  152  ;  rescues 
daughter  from  Indians,  155-157  ; 
life  saved  by  Kenton,  1 70-1 71  ; 
characteristics  as  military  com- 
mander, 172  ;  second  Indian  cap- 
tivity, 199-206  ;  escapes,  206-208  ; 
plans  defence  Boonesborough,  209 ; 
leads  raid  against  Indians,  210;  in 
siege  of  Boonesborough,  211-220 ; 
court-martialed,  221-222  ;  feat  of 
marksmanship,  229-230 ;  aids  Bry- 
an's Station,  241  ;  in  battle  of  Blue 
Lick,  243-244  ;  letter  to  Isaac  Shelby, 
299  ;  decline  in  influence,  300-301  ; 
removes  from  Boonesborough,  318  ; 
loses  Kentucky  lands,  318-319,  324  ; 
settles  at  Maysville,  319  ;  removes 
to  Point  Pleasant,  320  ;  elected  to 
Virginia  Legislature,  320  ;  letter  to 
governor  of  Virginia,  321  ;  descrip- 
tions of,  322-323,  335-338  ;  migrates 
to  Missouri,  324-325  ;  as  Spanish 
official,  326-327  ;  struggle  to  retain 
Spanish  land  grant,  329-332  ;  last 
visit  to  Kentucky,  330 ;  letter  to 
Sarah  Boone,  m-^iA  and  n ;  last 
hunting  trips,  334-335  ;  death,  338  ; 
burial  in  Kentucky,  339 ;  also  men- 
tioned, 24,  37,  50,  51,  52  n,  65  «,  74, 


343 


344 


Index 


gi,  98  and  n,  99,  157  «,  158,  162, 166, 
245,  266,  267,  273. 

Bcwne,  Daniel  Morgan,  87,  324,  333. 

Boone,  Edward,  241. 

Boone,  George,  3,  4. 

Boone,  Israel,  38,  86,  241,  244. 

Boone,  James,  38,  47,  86,  87,  88. 

Boone,  Jemima,  87,  153-157,  208,  zzz- 

Boone,  John,  87. 

Boone,  Lavinia,  87. 

Boone,  Nathan,  320,  333. 

Boone,  Rebecca,  daughter  of  Daniel,  87. 

Boone,  Rebecca,  wife  of  Daniel,  an- 
cestry and  marriage,  38 ;  goes  to 
Virginia,  40  ;  dissuades  Daniel  from 
Florida  enterprise,  47  ;  starts  for 
Kentucky,  85 ;  joins  Daniel  at 
Boonesborough,  133  ;  returns  to 
North  Carolina,  208  ;  again  in  Ken- 
tucky, 229  ;  death,  332  ;  burial  in 
Kentucky,  339. 

Boone,  Samuel,  i2>5- 

Boone,  Sarah,  mother  of  Daniel,  2,  4. 

Boone,  Sarah,  sister  of  Daniel,  3,  4,  5. 

Boone,  Sarah,  sister-in-law  of  Daniel, 

333. 

Boone,  Squire,  brother  of  Daniel,  in 
early  Western  exploration,  48 ; 
volunteers  to  explore  Kentucky,  59  ; 
with  Daniel  in  Kentucky,  60-62,  65  ; 
attacked  by  Indians,  66 ;  aids 
Daniel  in  building  Wilderness  Road, 
102  ;  member  Transylvania  House 
of  Delegates,  121  ;  welcomes  Daniel 
from  captivity,  208. 
cone.  Squire,  father  of  Daniel,  mi- 
grates to  America,  2-3  ;  settles  in 
Pennsylvania,  4-6 ;  removes  to 
North  Carolina,  12-14 ;  officiates 
at  Daniel's  wedding,  38 ;  tempo- 
rarily removes  to  Maryland,  40 ; 
death,  48. 

Boone,  Susannah,  86. 

Boone's  Station,  Ky.,  318. 

Boonesborough,  Ky.,  founding  and 
description,  11 7-1 18  ;  Transylvania 
House  of  Delegates  meets  at,  121- 
131  ;  first  Indian  outrage,  145  ; 
second    Indian    outrage,    153-157 ; 


first  two  Indian  sieges,  166  ;  Shaw- 
nees  plan  another  attack,  206  ; 
Boone's  plan  to  defend,  209  ;  third 
Indian  siege,  211-220  ;  incorporated 
as  a  town,  223  ;  sends  aid  to  Bryan's 
Station,  241  ;  decline  of,  302  ;  pres- 
ent aspect,  303-304 ;  also  men- 
tioned, 133,  135,  160,  163,  165,  168, 
199,  200,  201,  202,  207,  221,  222,  265, 
308,  318,  331- 

Bowman,  Joseph,  185,  223. 

Bowman's  Station,  Ky.,  222. 

Bradford,  John,  307,  308. 

Brown,  A.  M.,  294. 

Brown,  Wilham,  describes  journey 
over  Wilderness  Road,  294-297. 

Bryan,  WiUiam,  231,  232. 

Bryan's  Station,  Ky.,  location  and 
early  history,  222,  231  ;  besieged,  235- 
241  ;    also  mentioned,  242,  245,  310. 

Bullock,  Leonard,  98. 

Bush,  William,  102. 

Butterfield,  C.  W.,  cited,  184  n,  201  n. 

Byrd,  Colonel,  223,  232. 

Cahokia,  HI.,  Clark  plans  to  capture, 
175-176  ;  captured,  185  ;  inhabit- 
ants aid  Clark,  189 ;  also  men- 
tioned, 325. 

Caldwell,  William,  plans  expedition 
against  WheeUng,  234 ;  attacks 
Bryan's  Station,  235-241. 

Callaway,  Elizabeth,  153-157  and  n. 

Callaway,  Fanny,  153-157  and  n. 

Callaway,  Flanders,  in  expedition  to 
rescue  Boonesborough  girls,  155- 
157  ;  marries  Jemima  Boone,  157  n  ; 
negotiates  with  Indians,  214-215 ; 
removes  to  Missouri,  7,7,^  ;  also 
mentioned,  209,  335. 

Callaway,  Richard,  helps  Boone  build 
Wilderness  Road,  102  ;  member 
Transylvania  House  of  Delegates, 
121  ;  brings  family  to  Kentucky,  133  ; 
rescues  daughters  from  Indians,  155- 
157  ;  negotiates  with  Indians,  212- 
215  ;  has  Boone  court-martialed, 
221-222  ;  also  mentioned,  153,  159, 
208. 


Ind 


ex 


3+5 


Campbell,  William,  258-262. 

Cherokee  Treaty,  44-45. 

Cherokee  War  of  1 759-1761,  39-45,  50  ; 
of  1776-1780,  65  n,  249-256. 

Chillicothe,  Indian  town,  202,  204,  205, 
206,  210,  223. 

Christian,  William,  253-254. 

Cincinnati,  Ohio,  245,  282,  324. 

Clark,  George  Rogers,  migrates  to  Ken- 
tucky, 141  ;  elected  to  Virginia 
Convention,  150 ;  secures  aid  for 
Kentuckians,  161  ;  brings  ammuni- 
tion to  Kentucky,  162  ;  at  McClel- 
land's  Station,  163-165  ;  plans  con- 
quest of  Northwest,  173-175  ;  raises 
money  and  men,  177-179;  takes 
troops  down  the  Ohio,  179  ;  marches 
and  captures  Kaskaskia,  180-183  ; 
secures  surrender  Cahokia  and  Vin- 
cennes,  185  ;  pacifies  Illinois  Indians, 
185-186 ;  learns  of  recapture  Vin- 
cennes,  189  ;  leads  troops  against  it, 
190-193  ;  takes  it,  194-197  ;  signifi- 
cance of  campaign,  198,  222  ;  de- 
stroys Indian  town  of  Pickaway, 
223-224  ;  again  invades  Indian  coun- 
try, 245  ;  visited  by  Robertson,  286  ; 
also  mentioned,  233,  263,  273,  282, 
301,  325- 

Cleveland,  Benjamin,  260-261. 

Cocke,  William,  goes  to  Kentucky,  113  ; 
heroic  act  of,  114,  116 ;  member 
Transylvania  House  of  Delegates, 
121  ;  leaves  Kentucky,  133  ;  in 
Tennessee,    250. 

CoUins,  Lewis,  quoted,  108-109  and 
n,   283-289  ;   cited,  93. 

Cornstalk,  95. 

Comwallis,  Lord,  257,  262. 

Cox,  Benjamin,  312. 

Crab  Orchard,  Ky.,  290,  291,  305. 

Cumberland  Compact,  274-279. 

Dandridge,  A.  S.,  121. 

Danville,  Ky.,  305  and  n,  308,  310,  311. 

Daxas,  Azariah,  121. 

Deane,  Silas,  137. 

Delassus,   Charles  D.,  326. 

De    Quindre,    Canadian    partisan    of 


British,  attacks  Boonesborough,  211- 

220. 
Dinwiddle,  Robert,  17. 
Doak,  Samuel,  259. 
Doddridge,  Joseph,  quoted,  71-73. 
Donelson,  John,  voyage  to  Nashville, 

267-273. 
Donelson,  Rachel,  267. 
Doniphan,  Joseph,  308. 
Douglas,  James,  121,  126. 
Dragging  Canoe,  250,  251,  254. 
Dunlap's    American   Daily    Advertiser, 

quoted,  291-292. 
Dutch  Station,  Ky.,  223. 

Eaton's  Station,  Term.,  267,  275. 
Estill's  Station,  Ky.,  222. 

Fallen  Timber,  Battle  of,  282. 

Farrar,  John,  113,  131. 

Ferguson,  Patrick,  in  South,  257 ; 
threatens  Wataugans,  258 ;  in 
flight,  259  ;  attacked  and  killed  at 
King's  Mountain,  260-262. 

Filson  Club,  origin  of  name,  53  n ; 
publications  cited,  114  n,  297  n,  305 
n,  311  n. 

Filson,  John,  53  and  n,  54,  55,  63,  308, 
31S. 

Finley,  John,  meets  Boone,  29  ;  early 
adventures  in  Kentucky,  29-30 ; 
visits  Boone,  49 ;  with  Boone  in 
Kentucky,  54-60 ;  later  life,  65  n ; 
also  mentioned,  47,  48,  51,  52  n,  64, 
65,  32S. 

Flint,  Timothy,  quoted,  337. 

Floyd,  John,  settles  in  Kentucky,  118  ; 
member  Transylvania  House  of  Dele- 
gates, 121  ;  rescues  girls  from  Ind- 
ians, 155-157  ;  later  career,  159  and 
n. 

Force,  Peter,  cited,  140  n 

Fort  Boone,  112,  ii6. 

Fort  Dobbs,  37,  40. 

Fort  Eaton,  250,  251,  253. 

Fort  Loudon,  37,  42,  43,  45. 

Fort  Prince  George,  37,  40,  41,  42,  43. 

Fort  Stanwix,  Treaty  of,  90,  105,  144, 
147. 


346 


Ind 


ex 


Fort  Union,  267. 

Fort  Watauga,  251,  252,  253. 

Frankfort,  Ky.,  305. 

Freeland's  Station,  Term.,  267. 

French  and  Indian  War,  7,  22-24, 39. 45- 

Gasper's  Station,  Tenn.,  267,  275. 

Gass,  David,  102. 

Georgetown,  Ky.,  305. 

Gibault,  Pierre,  185. 

Girty,  George,  201  and  n,  202. 

Girty,  James,  201  and  n,  202. 

Girty,  Simon,  characteristics,  201  and 

n ;     at    Bryan's    Station,    234-241 ; 

also  mentioned,   245. 
Grant's  Station,  Ky.,  223. 
Greenville,  Treaty  of,  283. 

Hall,  James,  cited,  89  n. 

Hamilton,  Henry,  secures  Indian  alli- 
ance for  British,  165  ;  plans  re- 
conquest  Northwest,  187  ;  occupies 
Vincennes,  188  ;  attacked  by  Clark, 
194-195  ;  surrenders,  197  ;  sent  in 
irons  to  Virginia,  198  ;  and  Daniel 
Boone,  203,  221  ;  sends  letter  to 
Boonesborough,  212-213  I  also  men- 
tioned, 181,  209. 

Hammond,  Nathan,  121. 

Hancock,  Stephen,  209,  210. 

Hanks,  Abraham,  113. 

Harding,  Chester,  quoted,  338. 

Harlan,  Silas,  241,  244. 

Harlan's  Station,  Ky.,  223. 

Harman,  Valentine,  121. 

Harmar,  Josiah,  316  ». 

Harrod,  James,  founds  Harrodstown, 
93  and  n ;  characteristics,  94  n ; 
foimds  Boiling  Spring,  118  ;  member 
Transylvania  House  of  Delegates, 
121  ;  leaxls  rebellion  against  Tran- 
sylvania Company,  144  ;  also  men- 
tioned, 116,  149,  159,  176. 

Harrodstown,  Ky.,  founded,  93  and  n  ; 
sends  delegates  to  Boonesborough, 
121  ;  rebels  against  Transylvania 
Company,  144-145  ;  besieged  by 
Indians,  166  ;  sends  aid  to  Bryan's 
Station,  241  ;    also  mentioned,  115, 


118,  119,  131,  160,  164,  165, 168, 173, 
176. 

Hart,  David,  98,  135. 

Hart,  Nathaniel,  98,  113,  122,  127,  135. 

Hart,  Thomas,  98. 

Hart's  Station,  Ky.,  223. 

Helm,  Leonard,  185,  188,  196. 

Henderson,  Archibald,  cited,  98  n. 

Henderson,  Nathaniel,  112. 

Henderson,  Richard,  early  career,  96 ; 
plans  Western  colony,  97 ;  organ- 
izes Transylvania  Company,  98 ; 
buys  Kentucky  from  Cherokees,  99 ; 
employs  Boone  to  build  Wilderness 
Road,  100 ;  starts  for  Kentucky, 
112  ;  adventures  on  the  road,  113- 
116 ;  locates  capital  of  Transyl- 
vania, 116;  negotiates  with  early 
Kentucky  settlers,  118  ;  plans  gov- 
ernment for  Transylvania,  11 9-1 20; 
address  to  Transylvania  House  of 
Delegates,  122-125;  and  Transyl- 
vania's constitution,  126-127  ;  for- 
mally takes  possession  Transylvania, 
131  ;  returns  to  North  Carolina, 
134  ;  denounced  by  insurgent  Tran- 
sylvanians,  146-149 ;  struggle  to 
hold  Transylvania,  149-150 ;  loses 
contest,  but  voted  land,  151  ;  pro- 
motes settlement  Middle  Tennes- 
see, 265 ;  at  Nashville,  274 ;  and 
Cumberland  Compact,  274-277 ; 
also  mentioned,  133,  135,  136,  144, 
159  n,  319. 

Henderson,  Samuel,  goes  to  Kentucky, 
112  ;  member  Transylvania  House 
of  Delegates,  121  ;  in  expedition  to 
rescue  Boonesborough  girls,  155- 
157  ;  marries  Elizabeth  Callaway, 
157  n. 

Henry,  Patrick,  177-178,  211. 

Hinkson's  Station,  Ky.,  158,  163. 

Hite,  Isaac,  121,  126,  170. 

Hogg,  James,  appointed  Transylvania 
delegate  to  Congress,  135  ;  goes  to 
Philadelphia,  137  ;  confers  with 
Congressmen,  137-141  ;  acknowl- 
edges failure  and  leaves  Philadel- 
phia, 141 ;  also  mentioned,  98. 


Index 


347 


Holder,  John,  in  expedition  to  rescue 
Booncsborough  girls,  155-157  ;  mar- 
ries Fanny  Callaway,  157  n ;  in 
raid  against  Indians,  210;  also 
mentioned,  209. 

Holder's  Station,  Ky.,  233. 

Hoy's  Station,  Ky.,  223,  233,  235. 

Hulbert,  A.  B.,  quoted,  298-299. 

Huston's  Station,  Ky.,  158. 

Indian  adoption,  ceremony  of,  204. 
Irvine's  Station,  Ky.,  223. 

Jeflferson,  Thomas,  139,  140,  177. 

Johnson,  Jemima  Sugget,  237. 

Johnson,  Richard  M.,  237. 

Johnson,  Robert,  237. 

Johnston,  Wilham,  98. 

Jones,  John  Gabriel,  150,  161,  162,  164. 

Kaskaskia,  111.,  location,  180  ;  captured 
by  Clark,  1 81-183  ;  Robertson  at, 
266  ;  also  mentioned,  140,  173,  175, 
176,  189,  191,  325. 

Kennedy,  John,  209. 

Kenton,  Simon,  characteristics  and 
early  career,  162-163  5  accompanies 
Clark  to  Harrodstown,  164  ;  brings 
reUef  to  McClelland's,  165  ;  saves 
Boone's  life,  1 70-1 71  ;  in  George 
Rogers  Clark's  campaign,  179  ;  re- 
turns to  Kentucky,  209 ;  in  raid 
against  Indians,  210  ;  settles  near 
Washington,  Ky.,  321  ;  also  men- 
tioned, 166,  169,  176. 

Kentucky,  early  explorations,  29-30, 
52  «  ;  Boone's  explorations,  54-66  ; 
first  settlement,  93  and  n  ;  history 
as  Transylvania,  11 7-149  ;  first 
constitution,  126-130  ;  organized  as 
a  Virginia  county,  150  ;  Indian  wars 
in,  152-172,  198-246  ;  rapid  growth 
m  population,  281,  302  ;  Frankfort 
and  other  cities  founded,  305  ; 
change  in  social  conditions  after 
Revolution,  307-317  ;  aids  Boone 
in  retaining  Spanish  land  grant,  331  ; 
erects  monument  to  Boone,  339. 

Kentucky  Academy,  310  n. 


Kentucky    Gazette,    The,    founding    of, 

290,    307  ;     quoted,    290,    309,    310, 

312,  313- 
Kentucky   Herald,    The,    quoted,    315- 

317- 
Kentucky  University,  311  w. 
King  George's  War,  22. 
King,  W.  W.,  cited,  65  n. 
King  William's  War,  22. 
King's  Mountain,  Battle  of,  260-263. 
King's  Proclamation,  90  and  n,   138- 

139,  144- 

Lee,  Richard  Henry,  141. 

Lewis,  Andrew,  163. 

Lexington,  Battle  of,  116  n,  132. 

Lexington,  Ky.,  founded,  223  ;  sends 
aid  to  Bryan's  Station,  241  ;  rapid 
growth,  306  ;  first  store,  306  ;  first 
inn,  307  ;  first  newspaper,  307  ;  first 
schools,  308  ;  first  hbrary,  311  ;  first 
jockey  club,  312  ;  first  theatre,  312  ; 
also  mentioned,  224,  228. 

Logan,  Benjamin,  gives  name  to  branch 
of  Wilderness  Road,  104  n  ;  goes  to 
Kentucky  with  Richard  Henderson, 
113  ;  quarrels  with  and  leaves  Hen- 
derson, 114;  heroism  of,  167-169; 
defeated  by  Indians,  223  ;  raises 
troops  to  aid  Bryan's  Station,  242, 
245- 

Logan's  Fort,  Ky.,  founded,  120; 
sends  delegates  to  Booncsborough, 
121  ;  besieged,  167-169  ;  Boone  on 
trial  at,  221-222  ;  sends  aid  to  Bry- 
an's Station,  242,  245. 

Lord  Dunmore's  War,  65  n,  91-95,  105, 
153,  163. 

Louisiana  Purchase,  328-329. 

Louisville,  Ky.,  305,  311,  314. 

Luttrell,  John,  98,  112,  122,  127,  134. 

Lythe,  John,  121,  122,  126,  131. 

McAfee  brothers,  115,  158. 
McBride,  William,  242,  244. 
McClelland's   Station,    Ky.,    158,    160, 

162,  163. 
McClung,  J.  A.,  quoted,  224-229,  230- 

231. 


348 


Index 


McConnel,  Alexander,  224-229. 
McGary,  Hugh,  goes  to  Kentucky,  142  ; 

aids  Bryan's  Station,  241  ;    rashness 

at  Blue  Lick,  243-244. 
McKehvay,  A.  J.,  quoted,  82. 
IVIcKinney,  John,  308. 
Marietta,  Ohio,  282. 
Martin's  Station,  Ky.,  223,  232. 
Mason,  George,  177,  183,  184  n,  186. 
Maysville,  Ky.,  163,  283,  305,  319,  320. 
Merril,  Mrs.  John,  230-231. 
Michaux,  F.  A.,  quoted,  281. 
Moluntha,  211,  212,  214,  239. 
Moore,  Wilham,  121. 

Napoleon,  328-329. 

Nash,  Francis,  267  and  n. 

Nashville,    Tenn.,    founded,    266-267 ; 

Donelson's    journey     to,     267-272 ; 

Cumberland  Compact  signed  at,  274, 

279. 

Oconostota,  253. 

Ogg,  F.  A.,  cited,  307  n. 

Paris,  Ky.,  305. 

Patterson,  Robert,  142. 

Peck,   J.   M.,    quoted,    210,   335-337 ; 

cited,  334. 
Penn,  William,  2,  11,  97. 
Peter,  Robert,  cited,  311  n. 
Philip,  King,  211. 
Pickaway,  Indian  town,  224. 
Point  Pleasant,  Battle  of,  95,  163. 
Pontiac,  3,3,  90.  91,  211. 
Preston,  William,  156,  157,  159,  232. 
Putnam,  A.  W.,  dted,  268  n,  279  n. 

Queen  Anne's  Wax,  22. 

Ramsey,  J.  G.  M.,  dted,  78. 

Raxick,  G.  W.,  quoted,  131,  218,  303- 

304;    cited,  114  n,  122,  140  n. 
Rawdon,  Francis,  257. 
Regulation    Movement    and    War    in 

North  CaroHna,  50-51,  76,  77  n,  84, 

96,  97,  130. 
Rights  of  Man,  or  Kentucky  Mercury, 

The,  quoted,  311. 


Robertson,  James,  settles  in  Watauga 
77-78  ;  in  Lord  Dunmore's  War,  95  » 
characteristics,  249  ;  in  Cherokee 
War,  250-256  ;  founds  Nashville, 
264-267  ;  and  Cumberland  Com- 
pact, 274-275  ;  also  mentioned,  247, 
273,  279,  280. 

Rocheblave,  Philippe  de,  181,  183,  185. 

Rogers,  Joseph,  232. 

Roosevelt,  Theodore,  cited,  61,  307  n. 

Ruddle's  Station,  Ky.,  222,  223,  232. 


St.  Clair,  Arthur,  316,  321. 

Scotch-Irish,  origin,  68-69 ;  first 
A.n:ri.can  settlements,  69-70  ;  char- 
actei\:tics,  71-83,  308. 

Seventy  Years'  War,  21,  25. 

Sevier,  John,  settles  in  Watauga,  77-79  ; 
in  Lord  Dunmore's  War,  95  ;  char- 
acteristics, 249  ;  in  Cherokee  War, 
250-256  ;  later  career,  256 ;  in 
King's  Mountain  campaign,  258- 
262  ;   also  mentioned,  247,  273. 

Shelby,  Evan,  65  n,  249. 

Shelby,  Isaac,  characteristics,  249 ; 
in  King's  Mountain  campaign,  258- 
262  ;  letter  from  Boone,  299 ;  also 
mentioned,  252  n,  302. 

Slaughter,  Thomas,  121,  122. 

Smith,  W.  B.,  212. 

Speed,  Thomas,  cited,  297. 

Stone's  River  Station,  Term.,  267. 

Stoner,  Michael,  warns  Kentucky 
settlers  of  Indian  uprising,  93-94 ; 
aids  in  building  Wilderness  Road, 
102  ;  meets  Richard  Henderson,  116  ; 
explores  Kentucky,  158  ;  wounded  by 
Indians,  170 

Sycamore  Shoals  Treaty,  99,  loi,  123, 
250. 

Taxleton,  Banastre,  257. 

Tecumseh,  211. 

Tennessee,  early  explorations  in,  46-47  ; 
first  settled,  76-80 ;  in  American 
Revolution,  247-263  ;  settlement  of 
Middle,  264-280. 

Thwaites,  R.  G.,  quoted,  4,  12  n,  319; 


Index 


349 


cited,  59  n,  65  n,  95,  181  n,  184  n, 
323  n,  334  n. 

Timberlakc,  Oba  S.,  311. 

Todd,  John,  member  Transylvania 
House  of  Delegates,  121,  126 ; 
wounded  by  Indians,  170:  aids 
Br>'an"s  Station,  241  ;    killed,  244. 

Todd,  Levi,  241. 

Transylvania,  founding  of,  11 2-13  2  ; 
constitution,  126-130  ;  later  his- 
tory, 135-149. 

Transylvania  Company,  organized, 
98 ;  buys  Kentucky  from  Chero- 
kees,  99 ;  settles  Kentucky,  loi- 
132  ;  votes  land  to  Boone,  135,  318  ; 
struggles  for  recognition  by  Con- 
gress, 1 3  5-1 4 1  ;  transfers  contest  to 
Williamsburg,  141  ;  downfall  of, 
150-151- 

Transylvania  Seminary,  308,  309-310. 

Treaty  of  1763,  45. 

Trigg,  Stephen,  241,  244. 

Vincennes,  Ind.,  captured,  185  ;  re- 
taken by  British,  188  ;  besieged  and 
taken  by  Clark,  194-197  ;  also  men- 
tioned, 141,  173,  175,  176,  189,  325. 

Virginia  Gazette,  The,  quoted,  290-291. 

Walker,  Felix,  describes  plans  for 
Wilderness  Road,  102 ;  describes 
Kentucky,  104 ;  wounded,  106 ; 
tribute  to  Boone,  107  » ;  also  men- 
tioned, 109,  114  n,  116,  266. 

War  of  181 2,  334. 


Warriors'  Path,  55,  59,  61,  66. 

Washington,  George,  and  French  in 
Ohio  Valley,  17,  23,  62  ;  in  Brad- 
dock's  campaign,  28,  31,  34  ;  defends 
border,  36  ;  and  American  Revolu- 
tion, 257. 

Washington,  Ky.,  305,  314. 

Watauga  Articles  of  Association,  76, 
78-80,  126. 

Watauga  country.  The,  location,  76 ; 
first  settlement,  76-80  ;  annexed  by 
North  Carolina,  80,  248 ;  Indian 
wars  in,  249-256. 

Wayne,  Anthony,  282,  289,  316  n. 

Welch,  James,  quoted,  337. 

White  Oak  Spring  Station,  Ky.,  222. 

Whitley,  William,  142. 

Wilderness  Road,  building  of,  loi-iii  ; 
route,  103  ;  Logan's  Branch,  104  ?t, 
158,  305  ;  Richard  Henderson's 
journey  over,  11 2-1 16;  immigra- 
tion begins  by  way  of,  141-142 ; 
Indians  practically  close,  166,  169, 
199  ;  factor  in  settlement  of  Middle 
Tennessee,  247,  265,  267  ;  and 
battle  of  King's  Mountain,  263 ; 
travel  over,  283,  289-298 ;  de- 
scription, 292  ;  opened  to  wagons, 
292,  299  ;  also  mentioned,  99,  144, 
177,  179,  208,  233,  246,  264,  318. 

Wilkinson,  James,  306. 

Williams,  John,  98,  135,  141. 

Wilson,  Isaac,  308. 

Wood,  Samuel,  121. 

Wythe,  George,  139-141,  178. 


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